Water Gypsies (41 page)

‘ Course he did!’ Maryann said fiercely, sitting down beside Sally and putting her arm round her. ‘That’s because he’s a bad man and a liar. Weren’t you frightened – of his face and the way he was?’

‘ A bit. But he spoke to me ever so nice. And he had a little dolly with him in a pretty dress, said he’d give it me in a minute, when we got to where we was going. He never did, though.’

‘And where did you go?’ Maryann asked, heart beating faster.

‘He took me in his moty car, said I could have a ride if I was good and quiet. We went to a shop and bought some mints and he said I could have them when we got home. He never gave them me. Then he took me to a house. Later, when it was dark. I kept saying I wanted to go home.’

‘Where was it?’ Maryann couldn’t help asking, even though she knew that Sally could really have no idea.

‘He wouldn’t have me sitting in the car. Said it was a game and I had to lie down on the floor and he put a rug over me so I never saw nothing. When we got to the house – ’ her voice stalled, became halting – ‘he said I wasn’t to make a noise, wasn’t to cry. I don’t know where it was. It was all brown inside. And he took me upstairs and there was a bed and a woman’s face and he made me … he made me … she kept looking at me all the time …’

‘ A woman?’ Maryann frowned.

‘On the wall. I went into the picture with the lady. She was pretty. She had a hat on with a feather in.’

The picture. It came to her. The picture of Norman Griffin’s mother with her proud, stern face.

Maryann gently pulled her into her arms. ‘Oh, my baby. My poor baby.’

Thoughts of what he had done to Sally wouldn’t leave her. Maryann felt scraped raw. She knew now that the fringes of these feelings had begun to surface again when she was in the hospital in Oxford, and she had pushed them away. But now memories kept coming to her at odd times, unbidden except by a chance fall of the light, certain smells: sweat, a whiff of smoke from someone’s cigarette, an odd sound or feeling of cold on her skin. Her own wounds tore open, memories she had long hoped to bury seeping out again and, with them, the terrible knowledge of what he had done to her daughter when she had been unable to protect her. Once again he seemed to be everywhere, creeping, oozing into every situation. Life became like a bad dream, in which he was the dark shadow at the end of each corridor, the face at every window.

Yet she couldn’t speak of it, or explain it to Joel. Standing at the helm of the
Theodore
that morning, she felt utterly hopeless. Even to Sally she could not bring herself to say that this man had been her stepfather and had committed the very same foul acts with her. It was too shameful, too hard to bring the words out or explain. She found herself longing for Dot and Sylvia. Though she had never brought herself to talk to them about it, now she felt as if that might just be possible. They would try to comfort her, would not demand anything from her. It would be so much easier than trying to speak to Joel, who wanted her love and her body so badly, yet each time he tried to get close to her she suddenly became like a frightened child again, crying out and sobbing with panic. And, she thought, rage flaming in her, he never asked, never tried to understand why she felt as she did. He had just cut himself off from her, hurt and rejected, unable to find any words of comfort for her. She felt utterly abandoned and lonely, even though Joel was here with her only yards away along the cut.

Forty-One

As spring slid into a warm summer, the Bartholomews’ boats worked the Oxford cut. As they travelled north this time, on the stretch where the Oxford shared a section of cut with the Grand Union, Maryann kept an eye out to see if she would spot Sylvia and Dot. Last time they came along here, they had spotted each other close to Nethercote and there had been much excited waving and calling out, exchanging scraps of news while on the move. Sylvia, steering the monkey boat, actually jumped with excitement on catching sight of them.

‘Maryann, we miss you! Is everyone all right? Coo-eee – Rose! Hello, darling – see you soon!’ And she blew kisses as they passed and her voice faded.

And then Maryann spotted that their third crew member, all smiles beside Dot on the butty, was Bobby! The children waved and shouted.

‘We need you!’ Maryann teased. ‘What’re you doing on there with them?’

‘Keeping these two in order!’ Bobby shouted. ‘That’s what he thinks!’ Dot called.

Bobby’s grin and Dot’s tanned, radiant face came to her and her spirits lifted. If only they could all be together, she thought as they moved apart, calling, ‘See you soon – somewhere!’

It was a month since they’d been to Birmingham. They made their way through the city on a muggy afternoon, the air heavy with smoke and fumes. The noise of the place seemed overwhelming to Maryann: the roar of buses and shriek of brakes on the bridges running over the cut, the clatter of trains and racket from the factories along the banks. She felt wound up to the hilt, her nerves assaulted by the noise, and she wanted to ask Joel to turn round, for them not to have to be here. But of course they couldn’t turn round when they had a full load of coal to deliver, the laden boats riding low in the water. Even if she called to Joel, who was ahead of her, he couldn’t hear her. After all, she thought sadly, when did they ever really speak to each other these days in any case?

While they were unloading at Tyseley, Maryann went to find Charlie Dean. Looking up and down the wharf, she soon spotted his jaunty figure by the cab of a truck, squinting as he looked up at the driver, cap tilted to the back of his head. She waited, arms folded, until he turned and saw her. She forgot for a moment all her grim troubles, when his face broke into a grin at the sight of her in her blue frock and boots, dark hair curling round her face. She was one who didn’t half make him wish he was young and free and that she wasn’t already wedded to another man!

‘Hello there!’ He strode over. ‘Bout time you got yourselves back here – haven’t seen you in weeks!’

Maryann managed a smile at the sight of Charlie’s cheerful, coal-smeared face. The sensation of the corners of her mouth lifting felt unfamiliar. God knew, there’d been precious little to smile about recently. But Charlie’s features grew solemn again.

‘No news for you, I’m afraid. Nothing, even now. The fuzz aren’t getting nowhere and no one’s set eyes on that Griffin bloke. Not a peep. Sorry, Maryann.’

He saw her face tighten and, as on other occasions, had to fight a desire to put his arms round her to try and give comfort.

‘What’re they playing at?’ she demanded furiously. ‘They must’ve done summat by now! How many more people’s he going to do in before they get to him?’

‘They just can’t seem to find where he’s gone to earth. His car turned up, miles out somewhere. But no one’s seen hide nor hair of him. D’you think he might’ve gone away from Brum?’

Maryann shrugged. ‘Someone must’ve seen him.’ Her mind seemed to drift. ‘Ta anyway, Charlie,’ she said and began to walk off, her thoughts miles away. Charlie watched wistfully. Maryann always touched a soft spot in him. And her suffering wrung his heart.

Being in Birmingham tore the wounds back open. Unable to think of anything else, Maryann did the rounds again. One of them must know something: Pastor Owen, Janet Lambert. There wasn’t time to go and see Mrs Biggs, her mom’s old neighbour. And she didn’t see any reason why Norman Griffin would want to go back there now. Nor did she bother visiting the works. If he’d turned up at his factory, they’d have had the police onto him straight away.

She found Janet Lambert even more pale and worn.

‘I can’t rest until I know they’ve got him and put him away,’ she said, leading Maryann into the back kitchen. In the gloomy light of the little room, her skin seemed to have a yellow tinge and her eyes were sunken. Her hair was a dull mousy-grey now, thinner and scraped carelessly back into a bun. Maryann was alarmed by her appearance. She looked really ill. As she made tea her hands shook, clattering the spoon convulsively against the side of the cups as she put the sugar in.

‘Janet.’ Maryann moved closer to her and looked into her eyes. Gently she said, ‘Janet, love, I know you’re going through hell, but you must look after yourself. Don’t let him do this to you.’

Janet turned to her and Maryann saw the utter despair in her eyes.

‘What more
can
he do to me, Maryann? He’s already taken away everything I ever had. He might as well just come and kill me now. It doesn’t matter any more.’

They sat in the parlour, the cups on a small occasional table on a cloth embroidered with butterflies. Janet had always kept a genteel home. They talked for a while and Maryann steeled herself to ask about Margaret, Janet’s other daughter.

‘I want to go and see our Margaret.’ Janet looked across with begging eyes. ‘I don’t go often. Can’t stand it. And I can hardly manage the tram and all that now. But it’s a visiting day tomorrow. Will you come over there with me so’s I don’t have to go on my own?’

Maryann felt a plunge of dread inside her. Oh God, not this on top of everything else! The asylum! The very word filled her with horror, let alone the thought of the huge, grim building with its dark gates. She had only seen Margaret there once before and the images she carried in her head of the child were terrible. How could she stand to go and face Margaret now? But how could she refuse Janet, the state she was in? Her mind raced. If she was to go with her tomorrow, they’d have to put off leaving Birmingham after they were loaded up. She’d already left Joel to do everything this evening and he’d be cross at the delay. Joel became angry so easily these days. She knew the pain in his back and his sense of helplessness in the face of her suffering made him frustrated, but it didn’t make anything easier.

‘Course I will, Janet,’ she heard herself saying. She felt melted with pity inside and reached over to take Janet’s hand. How could she not meet this desperate request? ‘Course I’ll come with you.’

Janet accepted the comfort, fingers exploring Maryann’s palm, and the feel of the callused skin distracted her for a moment.

‘ You lead a rough life, don’t you, dear? Hard-working, I mean. It must be tough on you.’

‘It doesn’t let up much,’ Maryann agreed. ‘Best never to think about how tired you are.’

‘You’ve a good husband, though.’ Janet’s eyes searched her face. ‘Counts for everything, that does. Look what happened to me. Don’t you forget it.’

Maryann looked down to hide her emotion. ‘Yes – he is.’

There was a silence while Janet still held her hand.

‘You’ll come with me?’

‘I said I would.’

‘Bolt the door tonight, won’t you?’ she said to Joel. He nodded. Joel had been surprisingly patient about her request to go and see Margaret the next day. For a while that evening she thought things might be getting better, that they could be easier together. But at bedtime he had almost ordered her and the girls out of the
Esther Jane’s
cabin. It felt as if he was afraid to be near her.

She settled the girls in the
Theodore.
Before locking up, she pushed the hatch open and stood on the step, breathing in the night air and gazing round the wharf. With an ache she looked back at the
Esther Jane
and pictured Joel inside with the boys. If only he could just hold her, give her comfort instead of always wanting more when he touched her…

The shadows round the wharf seemed to mock her and her flesh came up in goose pimples. Fear grew in her. Was someone standing in those deep pools of darkness? He was out there somewhere. The sense of being constantly watched overtook her and she hurried back into the cabin, feverishly pulling the hatch closed and fastening the bolt.

It was never going to get better, she thought, lying down on her bed. Not while he was still out there. The great darkness outside seemed to be pressing in on the boat and she curled up, frightened, her arm round Sally, trying with her body to protect her from all harm.

Forty-Two

They stood at the asylum gates on a grey, rainy afternoon. Maryann had helped Janet on and off the tram, and the physical exertions of the journey, of struggling with walking sticks on her bad leg, had only added to Janet’s emotional distress.

Maryann walked beside her on her painfully slow progress up the drive. Their coats were silvered with rain. As they reached the entrance, Janet faltered. For a moment she stared at the wet ground, then turned to look at Maryann. She didn’t speak, but her anguished expression said,
I can’t bear it.
Maryann took her arm.

‘You’re still her mom. She’s your daughter. It’s not your fault she’s here, Janet.’

Janet shook her head, a desolate expression on her face. ‘I think that I’ve come to terms with it until I come back here. She’ll never be my Margaret again. Not after all this time.’ She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Maryann saw tiny, convulsive movements in her jaw muscles as she fought to remain in control of herself. ‘It
is
my fault. For bringing him into the family…’

‘No!’ Maryann gripped Janet’s arm fiercely. ‘It’s his fault.
All
his fault! Don’t ever say it’s your fault.’

Janet took a deep breath and looked up again. ‘Oh Lord.’ She sighed desperately. And after fighting for composure, she said, ‘It’s all right. Let’s get in out of the wet.’

Immediately inside the entrance they were in another world. The sound of the big doors closing behind them made Maryann shudder. Outside they had left the wet air, full of factory smells and smoke, wind-shaken trees and buses and trams passing on the distant road. Now there were other smells, alien and institutional: whiffs of floor polish and disinfectant, stale cooking and another sweet, sickening smell which Maryann couldn’t identify. Here they were in a world of high ceilings, of grey, distempered walls, of footsteps echoing in long, gloomy corridors, of locked doors, odd sounds. It felt sealed off and utterly separate from life outside.

The orderly who met them was a bald, middle-aged man who walked with a limp. As he led them to the visitor’s room, Maryann saw the silhouette of a male figure moving away along the corridor in the distance, sliding close to the wall, with an odd, slouching walk. It was impossible to guess his age, but the brief glimpse made her feel profoundly unsettled. She shivered, cold even though she had her coat on still. She had a horror of places like this and if it hadn’t been for Janet she would have obeyed the impulse to turn and run, to escape from the oppressive atmosphere.