A Mistletoe Kiss (7 page)

‘You're a good girl, Hetty,' her aunt said. ‘You're doin' so well at school that the last time I met your teacher she was talkin' about a scholarship again. It'ud mean you could stay on at school like your mam did. Still, that's two years away, so no point in discussin' it yet.'

Hetty's eyebrows shot up. She would have liked to question her aunt further, for no one had mentioned the possibility of a scholarship to her, but even as she opened her mouth the kitchen door burst open and her cousins erupted into the room. Her aunt immediately seized the porridge saucepan and began to fill their bowls. She turned to Hetty, starting to ask her to pour mugs of tea, but Hetty, coated and hatted, was already halfway out of the door and managed to escape.

As she entered the playground, she wondered what Miss Preece was doing at that moment and thought how lovely it must be to have no one to please but oneself. When I'm grown up I shan't have a husband, or kids, I'll just have a nice little house and an interesting job, Hetty told herself. I must ask Miss Preece how one sets about becoming a librarian. Imagine spending all day surrounded by books; why, it would be even better than being a teacher!

* * *

‘Tomorrow, did you say? Goodness, how the time has flown! And how long did you say you would spend on the canal?'

‘A whole month,' Hetty said, smiling at the librarian. ‘Well, I suppose it will be a whole month; it usually is. It's a good thing we get six weeks off school, because Grandpa would never dream of letting me stay on the
Sprite
if school was open. As it is, he'll probably have to bring me back on the very last day of the holidays. But of course I shan't know for certain until I get aboard.'

Miss Preece nodded her comprehension. She knew that her companion's holiday should have started two weeks ago, and that Hetty had been desperately disappointed when a note had arrived from her grandfather telling her that the
Sprite
was out of commission for a fortnight, during which time he and his wife would move into cheap lodgings in Leeds. However, he had said that they would be in Liverpool in plenty of time to pick Hetty up at the wharf, and promised her ‘a nice surprise' when he saw her again. Miss Preece had been delighted that her small companion was not to be wrested from her as soon as she had expected, but had known better than to say so, merely commiserating with Hetty and using the extra time to introduce the girl to a great many of her own favourite books.

Now the two of them were in the tiny office at the back of the library with Hetty's holiday task, satisfactorily completed, spread out on the desk. Miss Preece had read it and been impressed. The girl before her
had used all the information the library could provide on her subject, yet had managed to do it so cleverly that the completed essay read more like a story than a stiff and formal piece of research.

‘A whole month, which by coincidence is precisely the time you've been visiting the library,' Miss Preece said now, smiling back at her companion and thinking how the child had improved in that time. It was not just her looks, though she was taking a good deal more care of her appearance, but her self-confidence had improved by leaps and bounds. Now, she did not sidle in hoping to escape notice, but came into the library as of right and treated the books with the loving respect which Miss Preece demanded, though she had never actually put her feelings into words. ‘Well, you've worked very hard on your holiday task so I suppose I mustn't grudge you your voyage on the good ship
Water Sprite.
' The librarian laughed rather self-consciously. ‘I shall miss our chats; in fact I shall miss you.'

‘Will you really? Miss me, I mean,' Hetty said, sounding doubtful. ‘I shall miss you and the wonderful books very much, but I do so love being aboard the
Water Sprite
. I don't know if you can understand how free I feel when I'm on the canal. Of course I have to work; I open and close the locks, lead Guinness – he's the horse – along the towpaths and to and from the stables, get Gran's messages when we tie up near a village … but it's very different from the sort of life I live during term time.'

‘But you're fond of your aunt and cousins, I know,'
Miss Preece said. Having discovered that they lived not far from each other, they had formed the habit of walking home together after the library closed and Hetty had talked freely of her life in her uncle's house.

‘Oh yes, Aunt Phoebe is very good to me and the boys aren't so bad. Uncle Alf is always fair, but he doesn't really understand girls. He thinks we all like housework, cooking and knitting.' She giggled. ‘He actually thinks reading is a waste of time; can you believe it?'

Miss Preece laughed with her, then picked up the exercise book which contained Hetty's holiday task. She had chosen to write about the life of an Eskimo family and had done it so well that Miss Preece had felt the biting cold in her own fingertips. She thought the child had a gift and was tempted to say so, but then decided she would have to see more of Hetty's work before she tried to judge her ability. She knew there were scholarships to be won for bright children – she had won such a scholarship herself – but there would be time enough to talk of such things when Hetty was older.

‘I'm going to take the library membership form along with me, just in case Grandpa knows someone who could sign,' Hetty said, picking up the exercise book and rising to her feet. Miss Preece was conscious of a sudden sinking of the heart. If Hetty did discover someone who could sign the form, she would become an ordinary borrower, would come into the library merely to exchange one set of books for another, and Miss Preece suddenly realised that she would not like
that at all. She would miss the companionable walks from the library to their homes, but even more she would miss the time the two of them spent amongst the stacks, searching out at first volumes which would help with Hetty's holiday task, and then other books; tales which Miss Preece had enjoyed as a young girl and now thought would give Hetty the same pleasure that she herself had derived from them. Of course, Hetty had not been able to take the books home with her, but she had settled herself in a quiet corner of the Reading Room, devouring the volumes the librarian had recommended.

Later, they had discussed the plots, and how the author had tackled difficult situations, and Miss Preece had realised that she was once more seeing things as a child does, and marvelled at Hetty's ability to transport not only herself but others to the very heart of the stories she was reading.

Now, however, Hetty cleared her throat and the librarian realised that she had not been attending to whatever it was her companion had said. ‘I'm sorry, my mind was wandering,' she said apologetically. ‘I was about to ask you what you thought of
Kim
, but then I remembered that you hadn't started it yet. I wish I could let you borrow it for your voyage, but I'm afraid that isn't possible. And anyway, perhaps
Captains Courageous
would have been a more appropriate choice. It's about a voyage, though in Kipling's case it was a sea voyage.' She broke off as another thought struck her. ‘Hetty, are you in a hurry to get home this evening? Only I have a rather nice set of
Dickens at home, and I'd be pleased to let you borrow one or two of the volumes. I think you'd like
David Copperfield
, and I'm sure you'd enjoy
A Christmas Carol
. If you'll walk home with me I'll run up to my room and bring the books down for you. I know you'll take great care of them,' she finished.

She expected Hetty to jump at the chance and for a moment saw the child's face brighten, but then Hetty drooped, slowly shaking her head. ‘I'd love to borrow'em, and it's really kind of you to offer, but I'd not have a moment's peace,' she said regretfully. ‘Oh, Miss Preece, all that water! I sleep in the
Water Beetle
– that's the butty boat … oh, the barge the
Sprite
tows behind it – and when the weather turns nasty the rain comes in no matter how we try to prevent it.'

‘Well, I won't try to persuade you, because my set of Dickens is calf-bound and very precious to me,' the librarian said. ‘But didn't you say your grandfather had a few books aboard?' She smiled encouragingly at her companion. ‘It won't hurt you to try your hand at adult literature for a change.'

Hetty agreed that this was so and presently, six o'clock having struck, the librarian locked the double doors and began her nightly round of the premises, making sure, as she told Hetty, that all was shipshape and Bristol fashion before leaving the building. Hetty, however, intended to call on her friend Lucy, so she and the librarian went their separate ways quite soon after leaving St Domingo Road. Miss Preece continued towards Everton Terrace, hoping that her mother
would be in a good humour, for despite her firm intention not to be bullied old Mrs Preece continued to grumble and complain, though never as frequently as she had done before her daughter's rebellion.

Hetty woke. The room was full of grey light and all at once the recollection that today she was to go aboard the
Water Sprite
came flooding into her mind. That was why she had woken early and why she had felt the first stirrings of excitement!

Very cautiously, she sat up and twitched the curtain back, and was unable to prevent a tiny moan from escaping her lips. Outside, the rain poured down from a grey sky as if it intended to start a new flood, and if there was one thing Hetty hated it was trying to get herself and her belongings down to the wharf and aboard the barge in a heavy rainstorm. As she had told Miss Preece, the cabin of the butty boat was not weatherproof, and though she knew precisely where the leaks were situated, and always placed a bowl or basin strategically, there was little she could do to dry off her light summer coat and shoes, which would get soaked as she made her way towards the wharf. Once aboard she could don the spare set of sturdy oilskins but until then she had no choice but to brave the weather.

The window was steaming up, too, which meant that it must be cold outside, but fortunately Hetty remembered that it was very early. The
Water Sprite
would be taking on cargo at the wharf, probably until noon, and it might easily stop raining well before then.

Satisfied on that score, she snuggled down; no point in meeting trouble halfway. If she could just go to sleep again, she might easily awake to sunshine and blue sky. She heaved the blankets over her shoulders and burrowed into her pillow. She
would
sleep, she would, she would! She closed her eyes and began to think about the month that awaited her. Behind her closed lids she saw Guinness's broad back, the long tow rope and the little cabin with the stove glowing and her grandmother chopping vegetables and throwing them into the big black stew pot. She saw her grandfather at the tiller, heard the water slapping gently against the barge … and slept.

She awoke for the second time when the alarm sounded. Hetty's bed was directly under the window; she raised her head and peered through the misted windowpane and saw that it was still pelting down. Oh, and it's perishin' August, she thought. It's not fair. She swung her legs out of bed, reminding herself that she had a lot to do today.

Rather to Hetty's surprise, when she left Salisbury Street she was accompanied not only by her two cousins but by Gareth from next door. Reaching the barge, she leaned over and banged on the cabin doors, then ran along to the butty boat. It was already laden with what she took to be either wool or cotton, and as she jumped aboard the craft she saw her grandfather, who had been fastening the canvas cover, straighten up, a hand to the small of his back.

‘I'm here, Gramps!' Hetty called joyfully. She jumped into the well and opened the door to the small cabin, slinging her bulging haversack on to the small bed. The rain had ceased only half an hour earlier but she saw, with pleasure, that there were no utensils on the floor and realised that the leaks must have been mended.

Returning to the well she remarked on this fact to her grandfather, reaching over to give him an exuberant hug which he returned, laughing as he kissed her cheek. ‘That's right; we thought as the old
Sprite
was in dry dock, so to speak, we might as well get the leaks in the butty boat mended at the same time. But haven't you noticed what we've been and gone and done to the old gal? I knew your cousins were unlikely to spot the change, but I'm surprised at you, young woman.' He climbed laboriously out on to the quayside, then shook hands with Tom and Bill, obviously thinking them too old for grandfatherly kisses. ‘Pity it's been raining, because the cabin's a bit small to hold a crowd,' the old man said genially. ‘But I dare say we can all get in if we squeeze up a bit, only we won't do that until your gran's got the grub on the table. I know she's prepared a Lancashire hotpot, with a heap of spuds, so I reckon you'll none of you say no to a helping.'

Gareth began to say rather awkwardly that he wouldn't dream of eating their food … he hadn't been asking for an invitation but had merely accompanied his friends, but before he had finished the sentence the cabin door shot open and Gran stood there, grinning
at them and waving a wooden ladle. She was a small, bird-like woman with curly grey hair and a face tanned and seamed by constant exposure to the weather. Hetty jumped down into the
Sprite
and gave her a loving hug. ‘You would feed the five thousand, given a chance, Gran,' she said. ‘Oh, Gran, I love your Lancashire hotpot but I'm quite willing to share my helping with Gareth, horrible though he is to me, because he's come all the way from Salisbury Street to have a word with Gramps about getting work on the canal and I thought …' She looked around her, suddenly struck by something. ‘Where's Guinness? I know you stable him while you're loading, but it looks as though you're ready for the off …'