A Mother's Wish (21 page)

She rode on for what seemed hours, half asleep herself, and allowing the mare to have her head. The damp air rose from the marshes and Effie wrapped her shawl around Georgie, but that left her shivering in the chill east wind that whipped across the flat land even in midsummer. The track seemed to go on forever
and she was just beginning to think that they were lost and going round in circles when she saw a pinprick of light in the distance. At first she thought it was the infamous will-o’-the-wisp, but it proved to be constant and as she drew closer she realised it was a lantern hanging inside a farm outbuilding. The soft lowing of cattle made her want to shout for joy as she realised it was a milking parlour, and there were other human beings close at hand. If there was a farm it meant that she had reached the edge of the marsh and she was getting close to the river.

Wide awake now, she rode on with renewed enthusiasm. There was a soft shimmer of light to the west where the streetlights of east London sent up a warm glow, and the great bowl of the sky was cracked by a silver line to the east as dawn broke. It was a new day and Effie’s spirits rose as she anticipated her reunion with Tom. She urged the mare to a trot and Georgie opened his eyes, smiling up at her as though it was quite normal to wake up on horseback. ‘Gee-gee,’ he murmured sleepily.

Effie dropped a kiss on his upturned face. The world was coming alive again and the early morning sun rose in a burst of scarlet and orange. Its rays warmed her chilled body and the mist curled away, dissipating into a
clear sky so blue that it almost hurt her eyes to look up. She was excited now and even more so when they reached Temple Mills and the White Hart inn, where she dismounted and paid the stable boy a penny to feed and water the mare and give her a well-earned rub down. She took Georgie into the inn where the landlady fussed over him. She insisted on feeding him bread and milk while Effie breakfasted off freshly baked bread spread with lavish amounts of butter and washed down with hot coffee. It was obvious that not many travellers passed this way, and judging by the woman’s open curiosity it was almost unheard of to find a young woman travelling alone with a small child. Effie parried the landlady’s questions with a vague story of having become separated from the travelling fair, and saying that she was on her way to re-join them. This unlikely tale seemed to satisfy the woman who tut-tutted sympathetically and took Georgie off to change his soiled garments, replacing them with clothes outgrown by her own children. Effie’s offer of payment was firmly rejected. ‘I won’t hear of it, my dear. I’ve had five of my own and it’s nice to have a little one to fuss over.’ She pressed a bundle into Effie’s hand. ‘Take these, ducks. I’d rather the sweet boy had them than some of the filthy little urchins that come across the river for
nothing better than thieving and shouting abuse at their betters.’

Almost overwhelmed by this unexpected kindness, Effie thanked her profusely and insisted on paying for their food, but her kind host seemed unwilling to let them leave. Her thirst for information about the travelling way of life, and the world in general outside the narrow confines of her existence might have delayed their departure by hours, but politely and firmly Effie insisted that they must be on their way.

It was late afternoon and Effie had ridden along the towpath and seen many familiar faces along the way. She had not had the opportunity to question any of the narrowboat people until she reached Lea Bridge lock, where the lock keeper gave her a cheery wave. ‘Well then, it’s good to see you again, young Effie. I heard that you’d left your pa-in-law, and I can’t say I was surprised. What brings you back?’

‘I’m looking for Tom,’ Effie said breathlessly. ‘Have you seen him recently?’

He shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have, but the
Margaret
went past this morning. They must be close by Old Ford lock now. You might catch up with them there.’

Effie could hardly believe her ears. She
could not believe it was this easy. ‘I will, thank you,’ she murmured, flicking the reins to encourage her tired mount to walk a mile or two further.

She found the narrowboat moored close to Old Ford lock, as predicted. It looked the same as when she had left, although perhaps the paintwork was a little shabbier and the gold lettering slightly more chipped. The deck was fully laden with bales of hay, and smoke wafted out of the chimney stack on the cabin. She dismounted, setting Georgie down on the ground and holding tightly on to his hand.

‘Well, well, so you’ve decided to return to us.’

Effie spun round to find herself looking up into Salter’s weathered face. His lips were curved into a grin but his eyes were hard and calculating.

‘I haven’t come to stay,’ Effie said, clutching Georgie’s hand a little tighter. ‘I’m looking for my brother.’

‘Young Tom?’ Salter nodded his head. ‘You’ve come to the right place. He’s in with the old man.’

Effie stared at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be this easy. ‘He’s really here?’

‘Why don’t you go and see for yourself?’

She lifted Georgie in her arms and stepped on board with no thought in her head other than to be reunited with Tom. She made her
way to the cabin and opened the door but there was no one there. ‘Where’s Tom?’ she demanded, turning to Salter. ‘You lied to me. He’s not here.’

‘My mistake,’ Salter said, giving her a shove that sent her stumbling into the cabin.

The door slammed and she heard the key turn in the lock.

EFFIE SET GEORGIE
down and threw herself at the door, hammering on it with her fists. ‘Let me out. Do you hear me, Salter?’

A deep chuckle was her only answer, and the sound of retreating footsteps. Georgie began to whimper and Effie picked him up again, giving him a reassuring cuddle. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. Mama is just cross with that silly man.’

Georgie hiccuped and plugged his thumb into his mouth, gazing up at her with trusting eyes. Effie stroked his cheek and forced a smile. She was furious with herself for allowing Salter to trick her, but she had wanted desperately to believe that she had found Tom. There was nothing she could do other than sit and wait. She gazed at the once so familiar surroundings and saw that little had changed. Everything was in its place, but a film of dust covered the shelves and the stove had not been black-leaded for some time. The pots and pans looked as though they could do with a good wash and the brasses
were dull and in need of a polish. The stale odour of tobacco smoke and neat spirits filled the air and ash flowed from the range onto the unwashed floorboards. Everything was the same and yet it felt unbearably different. She had come here as a new bride filled with hopes and dreams for the future, but the Salters had defiled the tiny cabin with their filth and corruption. The memories were bittersweet as she held Georgie closer to her heart, rocking him and singing his favourite nursery rhymes.

So much happiness and yet so much tragedy had occurred in this confined space, and now she was imprisoned by the man who had sought to ruin their lives. She wondered what had become of her father-in-law. Had the Salters carried out their threat to murder him? She doubted if they had the brains or the courage to do such a foul deed, and Jacob Grey was too well known on the waterways to be disposed of without causing suspicion, and the canal was too shallow to swallow up a dead body.

Effie was startled out of her grim musings by the sudden opening of the door. She leapt to her feet as Sal staggered into the cabin, supporting Jacob who was obviously drunk.

‘So you’ve come crawling back.’ Sal dumped Jacob on the bunk as if he were a
sack of coal. ‘See who’s come to visit you, Jacob me old cock. It’s that stuck-up daughter-in-law of yours and her brat, the one you wanted to keep close by you, for some reason best known to yourself.’ She eyed Georgie with a curl of her lip. ‘Nasty things, boys; they grow up to be rude and dirty. A good thrashing is what they need to teach ’em manners.’

Effie moved towards the doorway. ‘Don’t you dare lay a finger on my son.’

Sal threw back her head and laughed. ‘Or you’ll what? I could take you with one hand tied behind me back, missis. So don’t act hoity-toity with me.’

‘Stop shouting, woman,’ Jacob muttered, slurring his words. He stared at Effie, focusing his eyes with an obvious effort. ‘So she’s come back to haunt me. I don’t need another harpy to make me life a misery.’

Sal plumped down on the bunk and hooked her arm around his shoulders. ‘I make you happy, Jacob, dear. You know I do, but she’s a stuck-up cow and only here because she’s brought the boy back to you.’

Jacob shook his head. ‘Boy? What boy?’

Effie inched closer to the door. ‘I’m going now, Father-in-law. I didn’t want to come here but I’m looking for Tom. That man told me he was in here and then he locked me in.’

‘She’s trying to take your grandson away again,’ Sal hissed, giving Jacob a sharp prod in the ribs. ‘Is that what you want, old man? You was mad as fire when she took the brat. Are you going to let him go now?’

Jacob pushed her aside and staggered to his feet. ‘No, I’m not. Owen’s son belongs here on the
Margaret
.’ He advanced on Effie. ‘You can push off, but give me the boy.’

‘I’d die first,’ Effie cried passionately. ‘You shan’t have my son.’ She ran from the cabin but was stopped by Salter’s considerable bulk. He took her by the shoulders and propelled her back inside.

Sal lunged forward, catching Effie off balance, and she snatched Georgie from his mother’s arms. ‘Get rid of her, Salter. Toss her overboard if you have to.’

‘No,’ Effie screamed as Salter picked her up bodily. ‘Give me back my baby.’

Georgie’s distressed shrieks cut her like a knife as Salter carried her out on deck. She fought and struggled but he heaved her over the side into the River Lea. The shock of the cold water took her breath away and she found herself sinking into a tangle of weeds. Her voluminous skirts pulled her down and her boots filled with mud and water as she hit the bottom. She had never learned to swim but sheer instinct made her kick out and rise
to the surface. The water was deeper here just outside the lock gates, especially at high tide, and she would have gone down again, but miraculously she was prevented from sinking. Some unseen force was dragging her towards the bank.

Dazed and coughing up filthy, brackish water, Effie was heaved out of the river by a pair of strong hands. She collapsed on the towpath and the same hands were slapping her on the back, encouraging her to clear her lungs of water and to take a breath of air.

‘Are you all right?’

The anxious voice floating somewhere above her made Effie look up. She recognised the weathered face of Hoskins, the new lock keeper who had taken the job just before the Salters arrived on the scene. He disentangled the boat hook from her torn skirt with a rueful smile. ‘Sorry, missis, but it was the only way to get you out afore you drownded.’

Effie struggled to her feet. ‘My son,’ she gasped, pointing at the
Margaret
on the far side of the canal. ‘He’s got Georgie.’

‘There, there, ducks,’ Hoskins said gently. ‘Your nipper will be all right with his grandpa.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Effie cried desperately. ‘Those people with him are bad. The man threw me overboard.’

Hoskins shook his head. ‘It’s shock, missis. You must have tripped and fell in the water.’

Momentarily prevented from speaking by a bout of coughing, Effie fought to catch her breath. ‘No, you don’t understand. They’re taking my baby.’

Hoskins slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘I heard as how you’d gone a bit funny in the head when your husband passed away. Come into the cottage and Mrs Hoskins will dry you off before you go back on board. I daresay a nice hot cup of tea would be just the ticket.’

Effie was too breathless to argue and her sodden clothes made it difficult to walk. She had no choice but to allow Hoskins to help her into the cottage. ‘Mother,’ he said, pushing Effie gently forward. ‘You heard me speak of young Widow Grey from the
Margaret
. The poor girl fell in the canal and her mind is wandering. Look after her, ducks, while I go and tell old Jacob what’s happened.’

‘He threw me overboard,’ Effie said in desperation. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

Mrs Hoskins bustled forward, snatching a dry towel off the clothes horse in front of the fire
and wrapping it around Effie’s shoulders. ‘There now, let’s get you warm and dry and hear no more of that wild talk. I’ve got tea brewing in the pot and you can sit by the fire and drink it while my Jimmy sorts things out with Mr Grey.’

Effie’s teeth were chattering so violently that she could not speak. She towelled her hair but her sodden clothes clung to her, making it impossible to dry herself. Mrs Hoskins poured tea into two china mugs, adding two generous spoonfuls of sugar and stirring the tea before handing it to Effie. ‘Drink this, Mrs Grey. Have you a change of clothes on board the
Margaret
?’

The tea was hot and sweet and Effie could feel it warming her chilled bones. She shook her head. ‘M-my clothes – s-saddle b-bag – horse.’

‘Saddlebag? I see. Well Jimmy will find your horse and bring your things to you. Sit down, ducks. Warm yourself and drink your tea.’ Mrs Hoskins hurried out of the cottage, calling for her husband.

Effie’s legs were trembling and her knees gave way beneath her. Shock, distress and the inability to convince these kind people that something terrible had occurred made her too weak to stand. She sank down on the chair and sipped the tea. Her worst nightmare had come true. Her child was in the hands of the unscrupulous Salters and her drunken father-in-law. She did not think that Jacob would harm his grandson, but she was painfully
aware that they were both in danger. She could hazard a guess that the Salters’ plan was to encourage Jacob to drink himself into an early grave. Georgie would be safe until then, but if his grandfather was not there to protect him . . . She could not bear to think of the outcome.

She drank the last of the tea and made a determined effort to rise to her feet. She would go back on board the
Margaret
. With Hoskins and his wife as witnesses the Salters would not dare to keep Georgie from her. She tried to walk but the wet material clung to her legs, making each step an effort. She had almost reached the door when Mrs Hoskins returned with a worried look on her pleasant face. ‘You shouldn’t try to walk yet, my dear. Hoskins has found your horse and he’s bringing her across. Let’s get you changed into some dry clothes before you catch your death of cold.’