Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  They both knew there was only one answer.

  *

  As Marnie and Anne crossed the accommodation bridge, Marnie was reminded of the spring-cleaning scene in The Wind in the Willows. They looked down to see Willow on the bank tying a black plastic rubbish bag. Another filled bag was already lying beside her in the snow. On the boat’s roof two rugs were spread out, and a broom and dustpan were littering the small counter at the stern.

  “Morning!” Willow called out cheerfully. “Weather seems to be clearing at last.”

  Marnie and Anne looked dubious.

  “If you say so,” said Marnie.

  She passed on Leonard Fletcher’s message, and Willow immediately returned his call.

  “Thanks for the offer, but we’ll not be needing much more hay. We’re leaving, you see. Could you let me have just one bale, please. Is there a seed merchant round here?”

  Marnie and Anne wandered along the bank until Willow completed the call.

  “You know, Marnie, everyone’s been so kind to us, well nearly everyone. In some ways I’ll be sorry to leave. That farmer, Mr Fletcher, he’s offered to go to the seed merchant for us.”

  “Seed merchant?” Marnie looked puzzled. “Why do you need seeds?”

  Willow smiled. “I’m not planting a garden!” She laughed. “No, I want a quiet mix for Poppy and some chaff.”

  Marnie frowned. “I think I’m in a parallel universe where they speak a different language.”

  “It’s feed for the horse,” Willow said slowly, as if explaining a basic truth to someone of limited intellect.

  “I see.”

  Willow continued. “She’ll want something to keep her energy up when we’re travelling.”

  “You’re not planning to leave soon, are you?” Marnie sounded incredulous, glancing meaningfully towards the canal.

  “The weather’s changing, Marnie. Can’t you feel it in the air?”

  “To be honest …” Marnie began.

  Willow breathed in deeply. “When you live on the cut, you get to be in tune with the elements. Farmers are the same. They live by the weather. It talks to them.”

  “And what does it tell you?”

  “Change is coming.”

  Anne looked at her watch. “I think I’d better be making tracks, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Marnie checked the time. “Blimey, yes! I’ll take you up to the bus stop. We’d better go.”

  “Would you have room for me, Marnie?” Willow asked. “I need provisions for the journey.”

  While Willow closed up the boat and left a note for Ben, Marnie and Anne walked round to the garage barn.

  “Are you shopping for anything in particular, Anne?” Marnie asked.

  “No. Just wanted to mooch round the shops, see what’s available. Some of the other students said they’ll be going in for coffee, so I might see them.”

  “Good idea. Anne, do you think it’s getting warmer?”

  “The temperature’s above zero, I think.”

  “Maybe I’d better cancel the order,” said Marnie.

  “For the sledge and the team of huskies?”

  “Exactly.”

  They arrived only moments before Anne’s bus pulled up at the stop outside the pub. Marnie watched it leave, her expression thoughtful. She suspected that Anne had something more in mind than a wander round Marks and Spencer and a cappuccino with the girls.

  They found Angela Hemingway in the village shop. She greeted Willow and asked after Ben. Willow explained they were getting ready to leave. Ben had taken Poppy for exercise along the towpath and to check the condition of Cosgrove lock. When Angela mentioned that she would like to talk to Ben again, Willow advised her to make it soon.

  *

  Anne found the reference section in the central library in Northampton and approached the reception desk. A middle-aged woman was on duty.

  “I need to consult a back copy of a local paper. The thing is, it’s not for this area. Is there any way of getting access to papers in other parts of the country?”

  “Which paper is it?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s for north London.”

  “Do you know what borough?”

  Anne looked stumped. “I’m following up something I heard about from someone at the Highgate Business School.”

  The librarian looked thoughtful. “Highgate. I think that’s the London Borough of Haringey.”

  Anne cheered up. “Well, that’s a start.”

  “You could get in touch with the library service to find out what the local papers are called. I can give you their number.”

  She tapped on the computer keyboard, wrote a number on a slip of paper and passed it to Anne.

  “Thanks. I don’t suppose it’s possible to access their records from here, would it?”

  The librarian shook her head. “You’d have to go down and look them up in the library.”

  “Oh.”

  “Another possibility is to find out which local paper you want. But even then, you’d have to go to their offices to consult back issues.”

  “Right.” Anne managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  Anne was walking away from the library when she heard footsteps running up behind her.

  “Hey! Excuse me.”

  She turned to find herself confronted by a young man of about her age. He was smiling as if he knew her. Something about him was familiar.

  “Hallo,” she said. “Do I know you?”

  “Rick,” he said. “Rick Galt. You were in the library a while ago, looking up someone in Who’s Who. I found it for you.”

  “Of course, yes. Sorry.”

  “I heard you talking to my colleague just then. You wanted to check a local paper in London?”

  “That’s right. I gather you can’t help me.”

  “She can’t, but maybe I can.”

  “Really?”

  “But it’ll cost you.”

  “Ten pence?” said Anne, smiling. “Like last time?”

  He shook his head. “More like ten minutes or so.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Have a cup of coffee with me, tell me what you want and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Anne became aware that he was wearing just a sweater and slacks in the chilly street. She saw him shiver.

  “There’s a place just over there,” she said. “Come on.”

  *

  Marnie helped Willow unload boxes of provisions from the back of the Discovery. The two women trudged with their loads through the spinney and over the bridge back to Glastonbury. Looking down, Marnie had the impression that the ice was no longer so hard-packed against the boat’s hull.

  As they reached the bank, Ben and Poppy came through the bridge hole. The boy had ruddy cheeks and a pink nose, but there was a smile on his face and he looked happy.

  “Water’s running over the lock gates at the south end,” he declared.

  Willow digested the news. “That’s good.”

  “Poppy was excited to see it. Mind you, the towpath’s slippery by the steps. When are we going, mum?”

  Willow looked up at the sky and down at the ice on the water.

  “Soon’ she said.

  *

  There was a brief moment of embarrassment in the café when Rick realised he had rushed out of the library without his wallet. Anne insisted the coffee would be her treat. They found a table in the corner.

  “So how do you think you can help me?” Anne asked.

  “You were asking about papers in north London,” Rick said. “The local paper in that district is the Ham and High.”

  “The what?”

  “I think it’s full name is the Hampstead and Highgate Express, but locals call it the Ham and High.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I used to live in Camden Town when I was at college. It’s a well-known paper in that part of London.”

  “Okay,” said Anne. “So that’s the paper I’m looking fo
r. I’m still going to have to go to London to look up back copies.”

  Rick’s smile was conspiratorial. “Not necessarily.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have a contact in Camden library.”

  “Who might be willing to help?”

  “I think so. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  “But it’ll cost me?” Anne suggested.

  “Not necessarily,” he repeated. “Though it would be a bonus if you’d agree to come to the cinema with me, or at least out for a drink?”

  “Let’s not be hasty,” said Anne.

  “I’d make sure I could pay next time,” said Rick with what he hoped was a winning smile.

  “Let’s get back to the paper. Your contact. She – I’m assuming it’s a she – could look up back numbers?”

  “She could. Do we have a date?”

  “For the back number, yes.”

  “I meant the other thing.”

  “What would she think about that?”

  “Not a lot. She is my sister.”

  “The ninth of April, two years ago,” said Anne. “I’d need the next two editions of the paper after that date.”

  Anne pulled a notebook from her bag, wrote the date, a phone number and some details, tore out the page and gave it to Rick.

  “That’s my office number with the names of the people I’m interested in.”

  “Still only your office number? Not your mobile?”

  “I’m doing this for work,” Anne explained. “If I’m not there, my boss will take a message. Out of hours there’s an answerphone.”

  Rick looked less pleased. “Okay. So the film or the drink are out of the question?”

  Anne gave what she hoped was a winning smile. “Not necessarily.”

  Chapter 33

  Thaw

  In the early hours of Sunday morning Marnie’s sleep was disturbed by an unfamiliar sound. She woke briefly and lay on her back, listening in the darkness. Beside her, Ralph was breathing slowly and rhythmically. Overhead she heard a steady beating on the boat’s steel roof, the rolling timpani of raindrops. Marnie yawned, turned onto her side and went back to sleep.

  At six-thirty the alarm clock in her head sounded again. She remembered the nocturnal disturbance and strained to hear the rain, but all was silent. Slipping quietly from under the duvet, she pulled aside the porthole curtain. It was still too dark to see clearly, but the pane was streaked with raindrops.

  The electric fan heaters were humming throughout the boat as Marnie skipped along to the shower room, closing the connecting doors behind her so as not to disturb Ralph. The interior felt noticeably warmer than of late. She remarked on this when she returned to the sleeping cabin where Ralph was getting ready for his morning walk.

  He kissed Marnie lightly on the lips. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said and climbed into his jacket.

  *

  Marnie caught snatches of the weather forecast while fiddling with toast on the grill pan and boiling the kettle.

  … a band of high pressure moving in from the south and west …

  The rattling of the kettle reached a crescendo and its whistle blew. Anne lifted it from the heat, placed it on a trivet and turned the burner out.

  … giving temperatures well above the seasonal average …

  Marnie switched off the grill and dropped the last two slices of toast into the bread basket, covering them with a napkin.

  … precipitation will fall as sleet or snow on high ground in the north …

  Anne poured hot water onto the coffee in the filter and replaced the tin in the fridge.

  … risk of heavy showers of rain across the southern half of the country …

  They took their places at the table as Ralph poured orange juice.

  … brightening later to give periods of sunshine in all areas …

  “Did you catch that, Ralph?” Marnie asked.

  Ralph looked out of the window. “I think I was lucky with my walk. It’s really clouding over. It’s not as raw as it was.”

  “It’s very slushy in the spinney,” said Anne. “And the ice is breaking up on the canal.”

  Marnie leaned over to the window. “Leonard Fletcher seems to have been right. I expect Willow and Ben will be champing at the bit.”

  “I think that’s more likely to be the case with Poppy,” Ralph observed.

  Anne laughed and hit him lightly on the arm.

  Marnie looked thoughtful. “If the sun really does get out this afternoon, anyone feel like a tootle?”

  *

  The rain fell heavily all morning from a pewter-grey sky while a blustery wind buffeted the boats at their moorings. The residents of Glebe Farm concluded that a tootle would be out of the question. They were starting to think of lunch when they noticed that the wind had died down and the rain eased from torrential downpour to occasional flurry.

  Anne had been reading a course book in her attic. She climbed down the wall-ladder to the office below and stepped out into the courtyard. Looking up at the sky, she raised a hand to shield her eyes before turning back to speak through the open doorway.

  “Marnie, there’s an unidentified flying object hovering overhead.”

  “Probably Zogs from the planet Tharg,” Marnie suggested.

  “Just what I thought,” said Anne.

  Marnie walked out to join her. “There’s almost a hint of warmth in the sunshine.”

  “Tootling weather?” Anne asked.

  “The wind’s dropped,” said Marnie.

  “Right. I’m going to put my wellies on.” Anne made for the door.

  “Is that an oblique fashion statement?” Marnie asked. “Or is there some hidden meaning?”

  “I’m going up the track to gather in the poles and lanterns from the flight-path. It’s an act of faith.”

  “Assuming they haven’t been blown away,” Marnie added.

  *

  Marnie was having doubts about the wisdom, or even the practicality of taking the boat out that afternoon, as she stood at Sally Ann’s tiller waiting for Ralph and Anne to untie the mooring ropes. Looking down at the surface, she saw that the ice had broken up, so that it now formed a series of overlapping plates instead of the single sheet that had held them in place for the past weeks. Ralph hopped onto the stern deck while Anne made her way down the gunwale.

  Marnie pushed the heavy gear lever into reverse and pressed down on the throttle. The water bubbled up either side of the stern, and the boat eased out of the docking area, scraping against the ice flows, butting them aside as she moved into mid-channel. With the tiller thrown hard over, Sally Ann pushed her way across the canal, seeking to point her bows southwards. With the loosened ice resisting, the stern was almost nudging the bank before Marnie could begin accelerating in forward gear.

  The sun broke through as the boat began to pivot, and the stern struggled to come round. Another quick blast of reverse gave her the momentum to clear a space in the water, and Marnie held firmly on the tiller as she pulled the gear lever towards her, willing the boat forward. Sally Ann’s fourteen tonnes muscled a path down the middle of the waterway. They crept along to the accompaniment of an unfamiliar scuffing sound, the ice scraping the sides of the boat.

  The ice breaker, Sally Ann, ploughed a furrow down the centre of the canal where the ice was at its thinnest. The air was still and the temperature definitely above freezing as the crew looked out over flooded fields. The thaw had come quickly, producing a watery landscape, where cows and sheep huddled together on patches of ground still covered with snow.

  From the galley Anne brought up mugs of hot tomato soup and a basket of crusty rolls. More comfort food, Marnie thought, wondering for how much longer they would be needing it. She breathed in deeply and suddenly realised that winter was a season where natural smells were in short supply. Winter in the country and on the cut was a time of smoke from chimneys. Otherwise few odours were carried in the air. Even the watery tang from the canal was absent as
Sally Ann pushed her way south towards Cosgrove lock.

  They tied up short of the top gates and walked ahead to inspect the lock more closely. The chamber was full and a steady flow was pouring over the bottom gate. Below the lock the ice had broken up, so that any boat wishing to go through would not find itself wedged in by an unyielding force. Despite the improvement in the weather, it was not warm enough to stand idly watching the water in the lock, and the three of them were glad to go back to their boat where they knew the kettle was heating up on the hob.

  Marnie performed the winding manoeuvre with some difficulty as the ice round the entrance to the long-defunct Buckingham Arm was packed more tightly than elsewhere. She pressed the nose of the boat into the far bank under the trees lining the water’s edge and reversed out towards the lockside, swinging the tiller hard over, feeling the resistance against the hull. Three times she had to force her way against the pressure from the sheets of ice, watching them shift and reform like the iris of a camera lens.

  Anne came out on deck as they passed slowly through Cosgrove village. This time her tray contained mugs of coffee and a basket of blueberry muffins.

  “A special treat,” said Anne, who had kept the muffins secret.

  Marnie sniffed the coffee with a quizzical expression. Anne explained.

  “Ralph thought the coffee would be improved with a dash of brandy to ward off the cold.”

  “Only because we’ve run out of sugar,” said Ralph.

  Marnie smiled approval. None of them took sugar.

  They decided to continue past their mooring and head north for a stretch. Marnie held the tiller under an arm, each of them gripping their mugs in gloved hands. When they passed under the accommodation bridge they saw that Glastonbury was shining in the sunlight, her paintwork freshly washed, her brass mushroom vents gleaming, newly polished. Smoke was swirling from the lum, stirring up thoughts of gypsy rovers and the call of the open road.

  Chapter 34

  Making Ready

  Marnie often wondered which part of the country she lived in. With its proximity to Buckinghamshire, she regarded her home as broadly south-east England, though the local television news emanated from East Anglia, as did their water supply. But some utility companies referred to their region as the East Midlands. It could be very confusing at times.