A Mistletoe Kiss (8 page)

‘Aha, she's spotted what's different,' her grandfather said. ‘We decided it was time we modernised the old barge, so we've had an engine installed and we've got the loan of a young lad who knows about engines to help out until your gran and myself grow accustomed.'

Hetty's mouth dropped open. ‘Gramps, how could you?' she said in a shocked voice. ‘You've always said engines were filthy modern inventions which you didn't want any part of, and Guinness is the best horse on the whole of the Leeds and Liverpool, you know he is.'

‘True; as soon as folk on the canal knew we had taken to motor power they came calling, hoping we meant to sell the old feller,' her grandfather told her. ‘I refused all offers, of course, but I agreed to lend him to a young couple who had just inherited their grandfather's barge.
Whenever we see the
Winchester Wanderer
we keep our eyes open for Guinness, and I promise you he's in grand shape.'

‘Oh, then that's all right,' Hetty said, though she still felt a trifle uneasy. ‘Do I know the people who've got him, Gramps?'

‘No, because until they inherited the
Wanderer
they worked the Grand Union,' her grandfather explained. ‘But we're bound to meet them some time over the next few weeks … now stop chattering and get everyone into the cabin, so we can get outside of that hotpot your gran's been preparing all morning.'

Hetty obediently herded the assembled company into the tiny cabin, helped her grandmother to dish up and then joined her grandfather, who had taken his plate out on to the stern. He greeted her with his usual cheerful smile as she sat down beside him and began to attack her own food. ‘Good girl,' he said approvingly. ‘Anyone would have thought you'd spent your entire life on the old
Sprite
, instead of having to live mostly ashore for the past … let me see, let me see … how many years is it?'

‘Too many,' Hetty said a trifle gloomily, for her grandfather's news had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. ‘Gramps, who is this feller – the one who's coming along to show you about engines? And where will he sleep? Only there's not room for another person in my butty cabin, even if the other person was a girl, and was willing to share. I've – I've always hoped that when I was old enough to be truly useful I'd live with you and Gran again, aboard
the
Sprite
, but if you've already engaged another worker …'

‘So you shall; live with us I mean, if you really want to,' Gramps said heartily. ‘But I've always rather hoped, you being so clever, that you'd have a proper career ashore. Your mam meant to become a librarian, you know, but it wasn't to be.' He sighed, then brightened. ‘But it's too early to worry about such things; you're only twelve, after all. Plenty of time to decide on your future.'

‘I used to think I'd like to teach, but I've changed my mind. I want to be a librarian, just like my mam; only of course I want to live on the canal as well,' Hetty admitted. ‘Oh well, as you say, I am only twelve. But if this boy is going to become a member of the
Sprite
's crew there won't be a place for me, even at holiday times.'

‘Don't you worry about young Harry. Naturally, he'll sleep in the butty boat when you aren't around, but for the next four weeks he'll have a bit of a tent on the bank whilst you're with us,' Gramps said at once. ‘He's the eldest son of a barge master … remember Mr Collins, the Number One aboard the
Swift?
They've a grosh of kids – four sons as I recall – so when Mr Collins heard I was looking for someone to give me a hand wi' my new engine, just for a few weeks, until I've got the hang of it, he was all too keen to lend me Harry, in return for the lad's keep.'

‘I remember Mr Collins,' Hetty said slowly, after a pause for thought. ‘But I don't recall Harry. However, if you and Gran think he's all right …'

Her grandfather assured her that she would soon get to know and like Harry, as he and his wife did, but secretly Hetty was not so sure. She remembered Mr Collins, a big, blustering man, and she remembered his dirty, ill-clad sons and his rough, sharp-tongued wife. But she had not met any of the Collinses for years and very much hoped that they were now as pleasant and suitable as her grandparents seemed to think.

Her grandfather looked all around him, then dropped his voice. ‘To tell you the truth, Hetty, I felt really sorry for the lad. He's the eldest and his parents have always handed out more kicks than kisses. So when I put the word about that I was looking for someone who knew about engines and the lad came to call on me, I didn't have the heart to turn him down.'

‘I see,' Hetty said slowly. ‘That explains a lot, Gramps, because I do remember the Collins family, and to tell the truth I thought they were a rough lot. But if you're happy with this Harry …'

Her grandfather finished off the food on his plate and stood up. ‘Remember, the lad's only been with us for a few days,' he said. ‘He joined us in the boatyard and came with us down to the wharf. You would have met him already except that I've sent him off with some money to buy himself a tent, and one of those sleeping bag affairs. I don't imagine he'll come aboard while your cousins are here, but he'll join us as soon as they leave.' He looked consideringly at his granddaughter. ‘Think of him as a rough diamond who needs the dirt cleaning off,' he advised her. ‘If I can see that there's a decent young feller under the
muck, then surely you, being nearer him in age, will do the same.'

Hetty tried not to look doubtful. ‘I'll do my best, Gramps,' she said humbly. ‘I'll try and forget he's a Collins, for a start. How old is he, by the way?'

Gramps shrugged. ‘I didn't ask, but I imagine he's fifteen or sixteen; a good bit older than you, but you've got to bear in mind that he's had almost no schooling, the Collins setting no store by what they call book learning.'

Hetty, finishing off her own hotpot, stood up as well and handed her empty plate to Gramps. ‘You're trying to tell me he can't read or write, aren't you?' she said bluntly. ‘Lots of the kids on the canal can't do that. But I wouldn't know one end of an engine from the other, so me and Harry are quits. And now let's get our share of Gran's apple pie before those gannets in the cabin eat the lot.'

Hetty was in the butty boat getting ready to set sail, having seen her cousins off, when someone landed with a thump on the decking. She poked her head out and saw a tall, skinny boy with tow-coloured hair checking the tarpaulin which was stretched across the cargo. Hetty cleared her throat and the boy turned round and stared, then turned back and continued with his work.

Hetty waited for him to acknowledge her presence and, when he did not, said rather stiffly: ‘Hello! You must be Harry Collins. I'm …'

‘You're Hetty Gilbert; your gran telled me you was
comin' aboard,' the boy said. He gave a malicious grin. ‘No doubt you'll gerrin the way an' hold us back, same as any other child would.'

‘Don't be silly,' Hetty said sharply. ‘I've been around barges and canals all my life.'

‘Oh yeah?' the boy said rudely. ‘And what d'you know about engines?' He sniggered and lowered his voice. ‘About as much as the old feller does, I reckon.'

Hetty's eyes opened wide; he was clearly referring to her grandfather, who had taken him on when many another would have refused to have any member of the Collins family aboard their boat. She was about to remind him of this fact when she saw her grandfather coming along the quayside and immediately the boy's whole attitude underwent a lightning change. His face, which had been set in a scowl, brightened into a cheerful smile and he called out: ‘Is we ready to go, Mr Hesketh, sir? I bought a tent, like you telled me, and the other stuff. I've stowed it in the kennel bein' as there's no tackle for the horse now, nor oats an' that.'

Hetty sighed to herself. The kennel, though goodness knows why it was called that, was where barge masters always kept any tackle or food connected with the horse, and this sad reminder that Guinness was no longer a part of the team was still too new and painful for her to accept. However, she was glad that Harry had put his gear there, rather than in her cabin on the butty boat.

‘Good lad,' Gramps called back. ‘We'd best get started if we're to make the most of the light. I want
to get well clear of the city before we tie up.' He saw Hetty at her cabin door and beckoned. ‘Come and watch Harry start the engine; you'll be amazed at how much faster the old
Sprite
goes once we get moving,' he said.

Hetty clambered obediently out on to the decking, jumped ashore and made her way to the hatch which now housed the engine. She squatted beside her grandfather and watched as Harry came importantly over and began to reach in amongst the mass of metal, talking of flywheels, acceleration cables and governor rods in the manner of one who knew exactly what he was doing. Hetty, who had imagined that one simply turned a switch, revised her opinion. Harry might be a hateful, rude and ungrateful boy, but it seemed that he was necessary, for a while at least, to the crew of the
Water Sprite
.

She squatted back on her heels and saw the two men – if you could call Harry a man, she thought crossly – grin at each other as the engine suddenly burst into life, chug-chugging in the way she had heard other barges do. ‘There you are!' Harry shouted above the noise. ‘I'll keep an eye on things for a bit whilst you steer, Mr Hesketh, sir. We'll be well clear of Liverpool, Wigan and built-up areas before Mrs Hesketh has boiled the kettle for a nice cuppa to go wi' our supper.' He smacked his lips and turned to give Hetty a friendly smile. ‘Your gran makes the best meals I've ever tasted in me whole life,' he said ingratiatingly. ‘I's goin' to ask her to give me cookin' lessons so I can stop me mam ruinin' good food when I has to go back to the
Swift.
'

Seeing this as a first overture of friendship, Hetty did her best to forget what had gone before and returned his friendly smile. ‘Whilst she's about it, she could give me cooking lessons as well,' she admitted. ‘Anyway, you might tell me a bit about engines, Harry. You never know, I might be able to help when you've gone back to the
Swift
and Gramps is trying to cope without you.'

Her grandfather laughed. ‘It's a lot more complicated than ever I thought,' he admitted. ‘This isn't a new engine, you know, Hetty my love, but an old one which has been reconditioned. I had imagined that I'd be working it after a few days, but now I'm not so sure. With Harry here to tell us what to do, I reckon we can manage on the straights, but when it comes to the big multiple locks – the Bingley Five Rise for instance – I could be in real trouble without him.'

Hetty began to protest that her grandparents had always managed before, and would doubtless do so again, but her grandfather shook his head. ‘The engine will save us a great deal of work, but even so, your gran and myself are beginning to get to the age when the hard physical labour of a barge master is too much for us. I think we'll probably need help for several months, and not just weeks; what do you say, Harry?'

‘Oh, you'll learn to manage the engine soon enough, when she's runnin' smooth as silk on the cut,' the boy said, ‘but there's all sorts of trouble which can crop up – fouling of the propeller, water gettin' in where it shouldn't, just when you're negotiatin' the locks. Yes,
I reckon you're right; I'm happy to say that you'll need my help for a couple of months at least; mebbe three.' He grinned widely, showing a set of shockingly discoloured teeth. Hetty longed to advise him that toothbrushes and paste were not instruments of torture, but should be used daily; however, she said nothing. ‘An' I can't say I'm sorry at the thought of enjoying Mrs Hesketh's cookin' for a while longer.'

Hetty cleared her throat. ‘Will you teach me about engines, Harry?' she asked. ‘I'd like to learn, honest to God I would.'

Harry turned so that his back was to her grandfather, and pulled a truly horrible face at Hetty, sticking his tongue out as far as it would go and pushing his nose up so that it resembled a pig's snout. But his voice, when he spoke, was calm and friendly. ‘Of course I'll tell as much as I can, but you don't want to get your hands all mucky with oil. We'll keep the speed down for a bit, so if you fancy a stroll along the towpath, go ahead. If we wanna speed up we'll give you a shout and you can come back aboard.'

‘No, I don't think I will, not whilst we're going through towns and that,' Hetty said, deciding to ignore Harry's childish face-pulling. ‘I'll walk when we reach the proper countryside; the Pennines are lovely and I know several of the farmers and their wives, so if Gran wants messages I can do that for her. But for now I'll go and help her get supper ready.'

At first, Hetty did make some attempt to understand the engine, which seemed to her a far more capricious beast than any horse, but as the days passed and they
pressed further into the hills she began to take an interest in the countryside once more. She saw water voles swimming from bank to bank, kingfishers and dippers darting along and of course the odd rabbit, but she soon realised with some dismay that the silent progress of the
Water Sprite
had vanished with the introduction of the engine. Now the creatures of the canal could hear them coming a mile off, and could keep out of their way if they felt so inclined.

It was wonderful being with her grandparents again, but she soon realised that Harry considered her a threat to his position on the
Water Sprite
and did everything in his power to make her presence seem more of a burden than a pleasure. But he was clever, being careful to sound friendly and helpful when Gramps and Gran were nearby, and saving his spiteful remarks, and the occasional shove, for when he and Hetty were alone.