A Mistletoe Kiss (9 page)

Poor Hetty, who had longed to return to the canal so much, found herself looking back almost wistfully on the happy times she had spent in the Everton library. Even her home life in Salisbury Street wore a rosy glow when compared with her first few days with Harry aboard the barge. Twice she had nearly ended up in the canal when he had found her sitting on the cabin roof, reading a newspaper, and though she realised that he had only meant to scare her, she did not relish plunging into the water, for she could not swim and did not fancy being dragged out by Harry, to the accompaniment of jeers and spiteful remarks.

To make matters worse, the weather was bad for
the first four days of her longed-for holiday, with the rain falling almost continuously. She was glad that the butty boat cabin roof no longer leaked, but longed for the rain to clear completely, and for a sight of the sun and blue skies, which in her memory had always accompanied her trips on the canal.

However, she told herself grimly that she must simply ignore Harry as much as possible, and had actually begun to do this when something happened to change Harry's attitude to her and hers to him. It was a day when the weather had dawned bright and sunny, and the countryside wore that special look which follows rain, as if every twig, every blade of grass, had been polished in honour of the sunshine. Hetty had got up early to make the most of the good weather, and the four crew members ate a good breakfast. Then Gran suggested that if Hetty was in the mood for a walk, she could visit a farm inland from the canal, where she might purchase a can of milk and some eggs. ‘We'll tie up in half an hour, so's you can catch up,' Gran said. Because the barge had been undergoing work ashore, Gran had passed on her three hens and also all her plants to a friend, who was looking after them until they might be returned to the
Sprite
.

Hetty agreed eagerly to go to the farm, and was only slightly surprised when Harry said he would accompany her. ‘It'll give you a chance to see how you gerralong wi'out me, Mr Hesketh, sir,' he said. ‘And last time I went into the hills around here I saw summat what puzzled me. Young Hetty's allus tellin' me that
she knows as much or more than I do meself about the countryside around the cut, so mebbe she can explain, like.'

Hetty, looking out at the towpath and at the canal bank, wondered for a moment just what Harry had in store for her, and then met his eyes and decided that, for once, he was being completely genuine. He was smiling and nodding, his expression very different from that which he usually wore when he looked at her. And this might be the first true overture of friendship he had shown her, so she smiled back at him and nodded an agreement. ‘All right, I'll come with you,' she said cheerfully. ‘It's so good to see the sun again after four whole days of nothing but clouds and rain that I just can't resist.' She turned to her grandmother. ‘But are you sure, Gran? That you and Gramps don't need either of us for a couple of hours? Only suppose something goes wrong with the engine, and Harry isn't to hand?'

‘That's the very reason you ought both to go off,' her grandfather called from his position in the stern. ‘The water's fairly clear after all the rain so I'm hoping the weed trap is empty and will stay that way, and once I've got her in gear – which I'll do before you young 'uns go off – your gran and myself should manage just fine. But if we don't, you'll come and find us and tell us what we've done wrong, I've no doubt,' he finished, addressing Harry, though he smiled at both his crew.

So presently, Harry and Hetty, one carrying a bucket for the milk and the other a basket for some eggs, set
off into the bright morning. Hetty half expected Harry's attitude towards her to become gruff and unpleasant as soon as they were out of hearing of the canal, but this was not so. It seemed that, for once, her companion had something on his mind other than how to irritate her. He told her that the farm they were about to visit had the usual number of half-wild cats, one of which had given birth, about six weeks ago, to a litter of kittens. ‘There's two ginger 'uns and two pure white,' he said enthusiastically. ‘Me mam and dad would never give house room to any sort o' livestock unless it laid eggs or you could eat it, but I thought mebbe your gran might tek on a kitten; or a pup, even. The old feller's gorra bitch what were due to whelp a month back; they're border collies, rare fine little beasts … it'ud be company for the Heskeths when youse an' meself ain't aboard,' he added almost apologetically.

‘Oh, I've always wanted a puppy – or a kitten, come to that,' Hetty admitted. ‘But Gramps always said it wasn't fair to have either cooped up on the barge. I wonder whether Aunt Phoebe would let me keep one, though. Other folk on Salisbury Street have dogs or cats, so I don't see why we shouldn't.' She looked curiously at Harry. ‘What about your mam and dad? Have they ever kept a dog or a cat on board the
Swift?
'

Harry laughed rather bitterly. ‘They wouldn't feed so much as a perishin' mouse, lerralone a kitten,' he told her. ‘They'd say it were one more mouth to feed, an' likely drown it when no one were lookin'.'

‘Well, we'll ask Gran when we get back to the canal, but I shouldn't think they'd consider it,' Hetty told
him. ‘And now where's this whatever it was you saw and couldn't make out?'

‘Oh, dammit, we was so busy chatterin' that I clean forgot,' Harry said, scowling around him. ‘Never mind, I'll show you on our way back to the barge. And now we'd better gerra move on, or we'll not catch'em up.'

Accordingly, they hurried, and reached the farm in good time. Harry asked if they might look at the kittens, and received permission to visit the big barn, but was told that the pups, all six of them, had only been born a couple of days before. ‘T'old bitch won't let you near'em, being strangers, like,' the farmer's wife told them. ‘Next time you're this way, though, she won't be so nervy; then you can have a peek. But you'll find kittens in stables, only take the milk an' eggs afore you go to there,'cos I were on me way to the dairy when you knocked and I don't want to be having to wait around for you to come back.'

‘Right, missus,' Harry said cheerfully, pouring the proffered jug of milk into his bucket and helping the farmer's wife to load Hetty's basket with a dozen big brown eggs. ‘The stable's this way, queen.'

Hetty was about to inform him frostily that she knew the way to the stables just as well as he did when she remembered that such a remark would only set his back up, and said nothing. After all, if she wanted her holiday to be a pleasant one, she must not antagonise Harry. Instead, she followed him meekly across the yard and presently was enraptured by the kittens, agreeing with her companion that they must be the prettiest little cats they had ever seen and wishing that
they could persuade either Hetty's grandparents, or her uncle and aunt, to adopt one of the delightful little creatures.

After admiring the kittens rather wistfully, the two set off once again in the direction of the canal. Hetty suggested that since the
Sprite
would have got a fair way along the cut by now they might be well advised to go back to the towpath by a different and quicker route, which would bring them out nearer the next lock, but Harry shook his head. ‘I want you to see this thing, wharrever it is,' he reminded her. ‘It won't take above five minutes. Still, we'd best gerra move on.'

Accordingly, they retraced their steps and presently came to a meadow they had crossed earlier, in which a number of cattle grazed. It was a pleasant place, with several large trees, and it was towards these that Harry headed. He stopped under a mighty oak which spread its branches across a good area of pasture, and stood down his bucket with a sigh of relief, for it was heavy. Hetty followed suit, then looked enquiringly at her companion. He did not speak, but gestured to the tree. Hetty peered up into the branches, but it was heavily foliaged and she could see nothing unusual through the mass of leaves. ‘Well?' she said rather impatiently. ‘I can't see a thing, unless you count leaves, that is, and acorns of course, only they're not ripe yet.'

Harry peered up into the branches as well, then picked up a fallen stick and used it to part the leaves directly over his head. ‘See that thing? It's a bit like a pear, only sort of knobbly, and the wrong colour,' he said, handing Hetty the stick as he spoke. ‘You reckon you know more
about the country than I do; well, if you know what that is, you're right, because I looked and looked at it last time I came this way, and couldn't make head nor tail of the bleedin' thing.'

Hetty stared up at the strange object. She hated to admit her ignorance, but the fact was she had never seen anything like it before and had no idea what it might be. She tried to give the object a poke with the stick, but missed it by several inches, so next time she tried she moved directly underneath it and gave it a good whack. It rocked on its branch but did not fall, and she was beginning to turn away, suggesting that Harry, being a good deal taller than she, might have better luck in knocking it off its perch, when two things occurred to her simultaneously. She saw that Harry was no longer at her side, but was legging it to the gate leading on to the lane as fast as he could go; and from the object above her head, a most peculiar noise was issuing forth. An angry noise.

In seconds, Hetty realised what it was and realised, too, that Harry must have known that the thing dangling from the branch was a wasps' nest. Poor Hetty dropped her stick, ducked her head into the shelter of her arms, and began to stumble after Harry, but it was too late to escape. Wasps were buzzing round her head, inflicting painful stings on cheeks, brow and nose, and even as she cast discretion to the winds and began to run full pelt, she realised there was one on her scalp and grabbed it out with her fingers, feeling it sting the ball of her thumb.

As she neared the gate into the lane she could hear,
even above the angry buzzing, Harry's cackles of laughter, and she hoped devoutly that the wasps would attack him as soon as she got within range, for despite her tear-filled eyes she could see him rolling around and clutching his stomach, helpless with mirth.

Scrambling over the wooden gate back into the lane, she threw herself at Harry, kicking, biting and punching, becoming even more furious when it seemed as though the wasps did not intend to venture further. Harry tried to fend her off, but he was laughing too much, and when at last he succeeded she saw that he had the grace to look a little ashamed. ‘Honest to God, queen, I never thought you'd whack it like that,' he said almost apologetically. ‘I thought you'd know it were a wasps' nest. I mean, you're always talkin' about how well you know the canal and the countryside, so I thought you must ha' come across a wasps' nest before.' He wiped his streaming eyes on the sleeve of his ragged jacket. ‘So now you know what happens to know-alls what really don't know all,' he concluded, still holding her away from him in a vice-like grip, so that not even her wildest kicks came anywhere near him.

Hetty took a deep, calming breath; her face was on fire and dreadfully painful, and she had a horrid feeling that there might still be the odd wasp either in her hair or amongst her clothing, but she did not intend to say anything about such fears to Harry. Instead, she spoke with an artificial calmness that would never have fooled anyone who knew her well. ‘That was a mean trick, Harry, especially when you consider you're three
years older than me at least, and always carrying on about how you know everything there is to know about life on the cut. What do you think my gran will say – and Gramps for that matter – when they see my face?' Harry began to look a little uncomfortable, and something else occurred to Hetty. ‘And you'd best go and fetch the bucket of milk and the basket of eggs, because if you think I'm going back in that field again you've got another think coming.' She looked over to where the wasps were still buzzing angrily around the oak tree, and gave a gasp. ‘Oh, dear – I don't know which one of us did it, although I think it must have been you when you were in such a perishin' hurry to abandon me to the wasps, but someone's kicked over the milk. Still, we've got to take the bucket back, and the eggs of course, so off you go. I wonder what magic trick you've got up your sleeve to stop the wasps attacking you? And of course I wonder how you'll explain away the empty bucket, to say nothing of my stings.'

Hetty was delighted to see that Harry's smirk had turned to dismay; clearly he had not expected his spiteful trick to turn sour on him. In fact, knowing that he would have to cross the pasture once more for the empty bucket and the basket of eggs, she felt almost sorry for him. She waited for him to try to taunt her into braving the wasps once more, and had an indignant refusal on the tip of her tongue, but suddenly he gave her a rueful grin and, leaning over, picked a wasp out of her hair and trod on it. ‘All right, all right. I know it were a mean trick, but, as you say, you're a
whole lot younger'n me and it annoys me sometimes when you can do things I can't. So I'll fetch the basket and the bucket, and likely I'll end up wi' a mush as red an' swollen as yours.'

‘Good! Serve you right,' Hetty said roundly. ‘Go on then, and don't think I'll pretend I kicked the milk over, because I'm pretty sure it was you.'

Harry did not deign to reply but climbed up over the gate and set off towards the big oak. Hetty could not help giggling as she saw him tiptoeing across the short, cropped grass. Not even his stealthy progress saved him from the wrath of the wasps, though she saw when he returned to her side that he had only got three stings compared to her own dozen or so.

‘I've got the bucket and the eggs,' he said rather breathlessly, climbing over the gate and collapsing at her side. ‘I wish … but it ain't no use a-wishin'. I should have knowed you'd get the better o' me.'