The Narrowboat Girl (26 page)

‘Bessie!’ she whispered, peering through the gloom. Cautiously she started to run. Surely that was Bessie, couldn’t that be the light of the
Esther Jane
?

As she came close she saw someone was leading the horse, someone big, solid. The one person in the world she longed and longed to see . . .

‘Joel! Joel – it’s me, Maryann!’

She heard the low rumble of his laughter out of the darkness, then its lapse into coughing for a moment. Then his arm came round her and she was safe.

‘How do, our young nipper! Where’ve you bin then?’

She was woken very early the next morning by the delicious smell of bacon frying. Someone was sitting pressed up to her feet. Opening her eyes she saw Joel, bent forward
towards the range, outlined against the light from the open cabin door. He was pouring dark, steaming tea from the brown and white teapot.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ She sat up. Usually the faintest sound disturbed her. The men must have got up and moved in and out doing morning chores and she hadn’t heard a
thing. It was the first really sound night’s sleep she’d had since Sal died.

Joel turned and grinned at her. His gingery beard glowed in the white dawn light. ‘You was sleeping like a baby. Seemed a pity to wake you.’

Maryann smiled back, drinking in the sight of him. Now she had seen Joel and was back on the
Esther Jane
everything felt so much better and full of promise. Even Darius had seemed quite
pleased to see her last night. ‘I feel as if I’ve come ’ome, Joel.’

He nodded. ‘Reckon so. We’re finding it hard two-’anded – ’arder than it’s ever been. My father ain’t getting any younger and we’re chasing loads
wherever we go. Another pair o’ hands’ll be a godsend. All right with your folks now, is it?’

‘Oh yes.’ She spoke lightly. ‘S’awright with them.’

‘Good. Well, that’s that then.’ Maryann felt his blue eyes on her, as if really examining her for a moment, and she hugged her knees. It was a special sort of look he was
giving her and she didn’t know what was he was thinking, but it felt nice, him looking at her like that.

He handed her a plate on which there was a thick wodge of bread topped with crispy bacon.

‘’Ere you go. Get that down you.’

They loaded up that morning, their cargo sacks of bolts and screws bound for Banbury, and by midday they were well underway. Maryann worked as hard as she could, pulling on
ropes with all her strength, turning lock gates with the windlass. Both men knew they didn’t need to tell her to be careful. She had learned that lesson back in the summer. But she still felt
nervous in front of old Darius.

‘I’ll try not to do anything wrong,’ she told him. ‘And I’ll work ever so ’ard for yer.’

‘That’s all right, lass,’ he said. ‘Everyone makes a mistake now and then. I can see you’re stroving ’ard as you can.’

His leathery face stretched briefly into a smile. Maryann thought he seemed tired through and through. She had seen that both his hands and Joel’s were rough and cracked, the tips of their
fingers split from the wet and cold, and Joel was wheezing and coughing badly.

‘Your fingers look sore,’ she said to him. Joel held out his enormous hands, turning them this way and that.

‘Not very pretty, are they?’ he said.

Maryann was proud to think she might be of help, but she knew she was about to find out about the harshness of life on the cut in winter. The day was another bright, frosty one and she was very
glad she’d bought the new boots. But she was ready for it all.

For that first morning she was filled with an almost insane sense of relief and excitement. She’d got away, she’d found the
Esther Jane
, she was safe, and no one would ever
come and find her here! She ran along the bank, a ball of energy, taking the windlass and running at the locks until Joel said, ‘Eh, steady on there. There’s a long way to go
yet!’

But she couldn’t seem to help it. As the day wore on, though, her energy began to flag and the cold, strange feeling that had possessed her came back. They had left Birmingham behind, and
she shrank into herself and quietened. For a time she climbed up and sat, huddled in her coat, on the roof of the cabin as she had in the summer, and she looked out at the beauty of winter on the
cut in Warwickshire. The fields spread out around her, grass hard and sparkling with frost in the low sunshine, the reflection of which rippled along the water. Where there were hedgerows close
enough she could see blood-red berries, and the grating cry of crows echoed across from the hoary trees in the distance. The sights were magical, but the further they went, the more the awful
numbness seemed to possess her. She was back behind the glass screen where nothing around her felt quite real. She looked down at her hand with its bitten nails, stroking it along the
Esther
Jane
’s wooden roof. Even her own hand seemed distant and unreal. She was frightened by it.

‘’Er’s steadied down a bit,’ she heard Darius say to Joel. They were at the tiller and didn’t seem to expect her to hear although she was not far away. ‘Like
a barrowload of monkeys she was, this morning.’

Joel must’ve nodded or made some other sign because she didn’t hear him reply. Maryann sat listening, head lowered so that her long hair fell forward. She heard Darius say,
‘That child’s grown up into a proper lass since we last see’d ’er. She’s a proper ’and to us now, Joel, and that’s a godsend.’

Maryann felt a blush rise up through her cheeks, filled with a contradictory mix of pride and self-consciousness. It was true, she had grown, suddenly, her body filling out, but it felt odd to
hear them talking about her like that. Darius was pleased with her and wanted her on board! She really had found a new life where she was wanted, away from all the disgust and fear and sorrow of
her life in Ladywood. Tears blurred her eyes as she looked along the cut. If only she could start to feel back to her normal self, everything would be truly fine.

They were back in the rhythm of the cut, working hard, not speaking much throughout the jouney. Maryann fell exhausted into bed the first night while the men were still in the
pub. She was too tired to feel lonely. The second evening they reached Fenny Compton. It was the first of November and very cold, though not quite severe enough to freeze over the cut. By the time
Bessie was stabled and Maryann had prepared the evening meal, the frost was setting in. The sun set over the fields in a glow of orange fire and the spare shapes of the trees were silhouetted
against the eggshell-blue sky higher up. She saw Joel looking at her as she wiped unexpected tears from her eyes. She never seemed to know what her mood was going to be from one moment to the
next.

They ate the stew round the tiny table without saying much, but she felt Joel’s eyes turning to her often, his face anxious, and to her frustration her own eyes kept filling with tears
which she had to wipe away. All that afternoon, however hard she had tried to force them away, memories of Sal kept pushing into her mind, not as she had last seen her, in despair and death, but as
she had been when they were young, so lively and pretty with her long blonde hair, running and laughing in the park or leading Tony by the hand. Sal had loved having a baby brother. Maryann could
hardly swallow down any of the food, however much she tried not to think of it. After a while she gave up. She went out and climbed on to the bank, trying to calm herself, looking out across the
stern of the
Esther Jane
along the darkening water, her vision blurred by tears.

‘’Ere – you’ll need this.’

Joel was holding out her coat and she put it on, glad of it.

‘Come on with me, this way. We’ll ’ave a bit of a walk.’

He led her away from the cut and the pub, along a footpath into the fields. There wasn’t much light and she had to concentrate on walking on the frozen mud track. For a while Joel led her
in silence, along the edge of the field until they came to a gateway, which opened out into another field where black and white cows were just visible in the dying light, standing huddled together
not far away.

Joel leaned over the gate for a moment. Maryann looked up at him. He seemed so familiar standing there, his face, the shape of him, his big, work-roughened hands on the gate – it was as if
she had known him all her life. He turned to her, one elbow still leaning on the gate.

‘You ent yourself since you’ve come back with us, Maryann.’

‘I’m . . . I’m awright.’ Once more the rush of tears. She wanted to stamp: stop it, stop it, I’m all right! Don’t make me talk or remember. I’m where I
want to be, just leave me alone!

He stepped away from the gate and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her towards him. She had grown a little, she realized. Her head now came up to his chest.

‘Look, little ’un—’ Despite his affectionate names for her, she sensed he was treating her differently, like someone older. There was vulnerablilty as well as kindness in
his expression. ‘I can see there’s summat amiss. I don’t know what’s driven you away from your family, but I do know what a sunny face you ’ad before, Maryann, and I
don’t see it now. The Maryann that left us is ’ardly the same ’un that’s come back.’

Maryann kept her eyes on the ground, shoulders heaving as the great swell of her grief struggled to the surface.

‘Speak to me, girl,’ Joel said gently. ‘It can’t do no harm.’

‘M-my sister . . .’ she managed to say, eventually. ‘She ki . . . ki . . . took ’er own life. We only buried ’er in the week.’

‘Oh no – oh—’ she heard Joel say. ‘My poor little bird.’

He took her in his arms and she felt herself held tight against his chest as his deep, growling voice made ceaseless, comforting noises. Over and over again he stroked her hair as she wept,
beginning to let out some of the reservoir of horror and pain inside her.

He held her, murmuring his comfort to her for as long as she needed it, not asking questions, just letting her weep until she began to grow quieter. She went limp, leaning against him, gulping
and sighing.

‘Oh Joel,’ she said eventually in tired despair.

‘Poor little thing.’ There was great tenderness in his voice.

‘I thought I’d be awright back with you, and look ’ow I’m carrying on.’

‘You will be awright. In a while.’ There was a pause, then he said gruffly, ‘We didn’t half miss you.
I
missed you.’ He squeezed her shoulders. ‘You
ent ’alf growing up, Maryann. I can’t help seeing you a bit different. I’ve not ’ad soft feelings for many lasses, but you – you’re coming to be special to me.
Silly old fool, ent I?’

Maryann felt the affection and warmth of his words go through her. She gave a tiny laugh. ‘No you’re not, Joel. You’re just you and I want to be with yer.’

He leaned down and carefully planted kisses, first on one cheek, then the other, and she giggled as his whiskers tickled her. His face was still close to hers and he was looking into her
eyes.

‘You’re so sweet,’ he said longingly. ‘Just so sweet, lass.’

His holding her, the desire in his voice, aroused a flicker of excitement in her. He brought his lips close to hers and gave her a soft peck of a kiss. When she didn’t pull away, he
embraced her properly, closed his eyes and kissed her more passionately, hungrily. For those first seconds as he had looked at her, kissed her, she had been deeply touched by his gentleness, his
desire for her. Then she felt his tongue between her lips, his hands pressing her now more ardently, and in her hurt state, her confusion, something hard and cold slammed down in her like a
shutter. What was he doing? He was supposed to be her friend, her brother! And he was starting on this dirty stuff,
invading
her like Norman Griffin had done! But this was Joel. Joel
didn’t do things like that . . .

‘No! Stop it!’ She pulled away with such vehemence that he released her immediately, confused. ‘Get off me! Don’t you ever touch me. I hate anyone touching me!’ She
was crying again, distraught, starting to run from him, but she had only gone a few paces before her ankle turned on a hummock in the frozen ground and she fell over.

Joel reached down to help her up but she slapped his hand away. ‘Don’t you ever touch me, yer dirty bastard. I hate yer!’ She scrambled up.

‘Maryann, don’t – what’ve I done to you?’ He seized her arm and made her stop. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought you’d . . . You seem so grown up and
I’ve such feelings for you, but I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. Please – don’t be like this. I’d never do a thing to harm you . . .’

‘Take me back to the boat,’ she snapped, yanking her arm away. ‘Don’t touch me. Just take me back.’

Joel stood, hands on hips, staring at her, completely bewildered. ‘We’ll get back then.’ He sounded confused, irritated even.

They walked back in silence. Maryann’s mind was in turmoil. How could he have done something like that? He was a grown-up man and she was just a girl! This was supposed to be her safe
place, the refuge she had run to for help. But it wasn’t safe. He was just like Norman, he’d made her feel foul and loathsome, and nothing on the
Esther Jane
would ever feel
right again.

She refused to speak to Joel again that night, despite him trying to make up with her. She lay down on the side bench and turned away from him. She barely slept at all, listening to the sound of
the men a short distance from her, repelled by both of them, wanting now to be anywhere else but here.

The next day they docked at Banbury and work began on unloading the cargo. Darius was busy overseeing that, and Joel had gone in search of another load to take on south or back
up to Birmingham. Maryann would have expected to use the time to clean up the cabin, do some washing and put a sparkle on the brasses. Instead, once the men were out of the way, she wrapped up her
few things again, pocketed the last of the money she had taken from Norman and climbed ashore, looking round her to make certain both the Bartholomews were out of sight. She walked briskly through
the busy wharf area and slipped away, unnoticed, into the bustling town of Banbury.