The Liverpool Rose (45 page)

As darkness began to descend, she was sent below by the brothers to cook the goose, which Abe had plucked and drawn earlier in the day, and the accompanying vegetables. When they finally moored up for the night they had an excellent meal, though Lizzie felt it prudent to turn down any more of the ‘Christmas spirit’. She thought the brothers were growing a trifle too merry, for some of their remarks seemed in very poor taste, but once the horse was stabled and the goose reduced to a pile of bones, she went to her bed amongst the fleeces, well satisfied with her day.

She awoke on Boxing Day morning to find the storm still raging and her two companions nursing sore heads. Abe was still eager to push on, fretting that they would let their pal down; but Reuben said frankly that he did not care who he let down, in weather like this they should lie up for a day until he felt more like himself. ‘The poor bloody horse will be on his knees if we try to force him to go on with the canal path shoulder-deep,’ he said angrily. ‘You may not value Boxer but I does. A strong horse is worth its weight in gold, and don’t you forget it.’

Lizzie was surprised at this, since she had thought several times that Reuben had little or no sympathy for Boxer, grumbling mightily when his brother commanded him to put more oats in the animal’s nose-bag or to give him a good rub down and a hot mash when they reached stabling. But it was clear that neither man was relishing the fearful conditions and she supposed that this – plus the drink they had taken – made them argumentative.

Having once realised that the men were supplied with spirits, she began to notice that every time one of them went below they were clearly taking drink for she could smell it on their breaths as they passed her to go about their various tasks. By afternoon, in fact, they had progressed very little further and when Reuben grumbled again that both he and the horse had had enough, Abe reluctantly agreed and they moored the boat close under a group of willows whose branches were so laden with snow that they bent right down across the water, giving at least some shelter from the wind.

Lizzie volunteered to take the horse to a nearby barn and see him comfortably settled and Abe agreed that he and Reuben would prepare a meal. So she
went off to the barn, Boxer trudgingly patiently beside her and a lantern in one hand. Once inside she took off the horse’s gear, rubbed him down, picked the snow out of his hoofs and fetlocks. She had done this before, under Abe’s guidance, but tonight she worked quickly and was on her way back to the boat faster than she’d expected. Knowing that the meal would still be in preparation, she was about to step aboard
The Singing Lark
and ask if she might give a hand when from within the cabin the sound of her own name stopped her in her tracks. ‘I say Lizzie’s done well be us an’ we’s in enough trouble wi’out givin’ her cause to split on us to the scuffers,’ Abe’s voice said firmly. ‘I know you’re bored wi’out no women, nor no pubs where you might meet a pal or two, but that don’t give you cause to go startin’ on a young girl like her. We’s a long way from Nat Shipley’s yard yet, so don’t you forget it.’

‘I don’t see why you think the gal would object,’ Reuben said, his voice thick and slurred. ‘I’ll wait till she’s tucked up in the fleeces and then I’ll join her. I reckon she’ll be grateful to have a feller like me tek an interest in her, give her a cuddle an’ that.’

‘I think she likes me a good deal better ‘an she likes you,’ Abe said in a grumbling voice, and Lizzie realised that both the brothers were what her Aunt Annie would have called, ‘ugly drunk’, and were therefore best avoided.

‘I tell you, she’s mine, ’cos I thought of it first,’ Reuben said aggressively. ‘You’re an old man compared with me, Abe Trelawney, I’m tellin’ you . . .’

But Lizzie had stopped listening. So these were the Trelawney brothers of whom she had heard Clem speak as the only really bad and dishonest family working the canals. Sick with self-disgust, because
she had not even suspected it, Lizzie realised that if she returned to the boat, she would be in deep trouble. She glanced around her. She must run – but to where? Beyond the stable in which she had just left Boxer, the hills reared, wild and lonely, without so much as a shape or light of a house to which she could run. Perhaps if she went to the stable . . . but that would be the first place the brothers would look when she failed to turn up to share their evening meal. Lizzie wondered whether she could creep into the fleeces, right along to the far end, and remain undiscovered but she knew this would be madness. Surrounded by fleeces and with two men intent on her capture, she would be in a worse position even than if she sought shelter in the stable.

Desperately, Lizzie tried to remember whether they had recently passed through a village, or whether either brother had mentioned any sort of habitation ahead. The trouble was, what with the snow and the difficulty of their journey, she had scarcely noticed anything apart from the path ahead. Standing on the towpath in an agony of indecision, however, her mind was suddenly made up for her.

‘She’s takin’ her time,’ Reuben observed suddenly. ‘I think I’ll tek a stroll up to the stables, mebbe give her a hand wi’ the horse.’

‘That you won’t,’ Abe cut in roughly. ‘If she needs to show gratitude to anyone, that’ll be to me! I’m the older, it were my idea to bring her aboard, so
I’ll
walk up to the stable and see if I . . .’.

But Lizzie waited to hear no more. She set off as fast as she could in the direction of the wild and lonely hills.

As soon as she left the towpath, however, the depth of the snow almost defeated her. It was well above her
knees and difficult to wade through. But she could see the dimpled line of a stone wall, running away to her right, and reasoned that, since the wind was blowing into her face, walking would be easier if she scrambled over the wall on to its more sheltered side. She struggled towards it. After a moment, she turned to look behind her and saw one of the brothers – she could not, at this distance, tell which – emerging from the cabin, closely followed by the second man. Fortunately for Lizzie, both men set off along the towpath in the direction of the stable without glancing around them so she hurried on, making the best speed she could and heading always uphill. The snow, which had not ceased to fall all day, was falling still, but Lizzie fancied that it was beginning to ease off, though the wind still blew the drifts into vast caverns and crevices, making progress as difficult as though the storm had been still at its height.

It must have been ten minutes later when she heard a halloo from behind her and, turning as she topped a small rise, saw the brothers returning from the stable. The larger of the two, Abe, was shambling along with head down, but Reuben was staring up at her and Lizzie realised that even in the darkness she must stand out against all this whiteness, like an ink blot on a page. However, she was not given long to worry for the brothers immediately veered from the path and came charging up the slope, Reuben uttering blood-curdling threats while Abe moaned that she was an ungrateful critter and all they wanted to do was help her on her way and let her lie warm and snug in the fleeces till morning.

Lizzie had no breath to spare for the sharp – and rude – retort she longed to make, but tightened her lips and ploughed ahead. She soon realised that what
with drink and their considerable weight, the two men were unlikely to catch up with her unless she foundered. What was more, the hills which looked so white and smooth from the canal were in fact full of hiding places. There were ravines, in the bottom of which, despite the snow, she could see the dark line of streams, and there were huge, rocky boulders, some as big as a house, which offered both a temporary respite from the howling wind and also the possibility of a hiding place. But the men were still coming on steadily. She realised she must begin to use the lie of the land to help her, otherwise all the Trelawneys had to do was to follow her tracks. While she remained in sight, they need not even bother following her footprints. If she could just get well ahead of them and out of their view, and if she could find shelter, then she thought she would probably be all right. She imagined that when the heat of the chase and their drunkenness both subsided, they would return to
The Singing Lark
and to their beds. In the morning she was sure good sense would prevail. But since she intended to steer well clear of the canal next day, the goings-on of the Trelawneys need no longer concern her. After all, they had been good to her until the drink had got into their blood; she would forget tonight and concentrate on getting back to Liverpool and telling the scuffers what she knew.

But right now, the danger was from the Trelawneys so she kept on, doggedly climbing the hill, even when she gathered, from the gradually fading voices of the brothers, that their pursuit had ended and they were returning to
The Singing Lark
. She topped a small rise and slithered into the hollow beyond and then, suddenly, the ground seemed to give way beneath her feet and she found herself falling . . . falling . . .

There was a moment when she was aware of the snow and the sky being blotted out by darkness and an uprush of what felt like warm air, and then something hard crashed against her forehead and she was plunged into unconsciousness.

The snow which had continued throughout the day seemed to Clem to be falling as fast as ever when darkness descended. He fully expected Priddy and Jake to pull over and begin preparations for their night’s mooring, but although Jake seemed to be calculating the distance to the nearest stable, Priddy said that they must press on. ‘We’ve gorra catch them Trelawneys up in the next few hours or they’ll mebbe start trouble with the gal,’ she said bluntly. ‘I haven’t said too much till now, Clem, but them boys have an evil reputation with women and though your Lizzie’s only a slip of a thing, she’ll be in mortal danger once they get fightin’ drunk. I’m sorry for our dear old Hal, but he’s a strong horse and can go a few miles yet, so we’ll keep on all night, if need be, wi’ a bit of a rest at locks or swing bridges so’s the poor old feller don’t founder. Agreed?’

Clem felt the hot blood rush to his face at the thought of his Lizzie in such danger. He had been afraid that they might bully her or turn her out to fend for herself but it had never occurred to him that the men might try to take advantage of her. Now he curled his hands into fists and told himself that if either brother harmed a hair of Lizzie’s head, he would kill them without compunction.

Jake, looking startled, muttered that surely, not even the Trelawneys . . . she were only a young girl and defenceless at that . . . but Priddy cut him short. ‘She’s a woman and that’ll be enough for Reuben
even if Abe were to hold back,’ she said brusquely. ‘I’ll not have it on me conscience that I let a bit o’ weather put me off doin’ me duty.’

Clem, looking round at what he could see of the snow-covered country through the still-descending flakes, marvelled at this understatement but agreed fervently that they must push on and went once more to Hal’s head.

As it grew darker, he was immensely cheered, however, to realise that someone had been along this path before them, and fairly recently too. Though he had carried a shovel so that he might dig his way through drifts, it was no longer necessary, for someone had cleared the path before him and now he was looking for it, he could see, by the light of his lantern, that a very large horse, led by someone both small and light, had passed this way only a couple of hours before.

As soon as he was able, Clem passed this heartening news back to the Pridmores and continued to advance as fast as he could. Hal might have been tiring – must have been tiring – but showed no signs of giving up and kept
The Liverpool Rose
moving through the water at a good pace. Presently, Clem began to lead the horse through a tunnel of mighty willows which overhung the water – and suddenly realised there were two boats moored just ahead. These were the first craft he had seen for many hours and immediately his suspicions were roused. It was such a lonely and desolate spot, no one would have chosen to moor here over the Christmas holiday unless they had a good reason for keeping out of sight of other canal dwellers. Indeed, had the Pridmores owned a powered boat, they might well have passed by without noticing the moored craft since no one would have been walking the towpath.

As he neared the two boats, Clem swung his lantern cautiously and felt his heart lift as he saw the legend on the stern.
The Singing Lark,
it read.

They had found their quarry at last.

Clem pulled Hal to a halt and glanced towards the
Lark’s
cabin from which a line of light emerged. Now that he was near enough, he could hear the mumble of a muted conversation; so they were not yet abed, despite the lateness of the hour. He slid a hand along Brutus’s ruff, turning him back in the direction of
The Liverpool Rose
. He felt he needed the support of Priddy and Jake before he tackled the Trelawney brothers. He and Brutus climbed quietly aboard and Clem explained the situation in a whisper.

Priddy was all for tackling the men at once, but Jake was more cautious. ‘When they fellers has the drink upon them, they can be real mean. I’ve known Abe, when he was younger, lift a burly drayman above his head and hurl him clean across the pub. And Reuben used to box bare-knuckled. They say he’ll fight wi’ fists, feet and a broken bottle, too, when the drink’s on ’im. If we can get Lizzie away from there wi’out trouble, ain’t that best?’

‘Ye – es,’ Clem agreed doubtfully. ‘If she’s in the butty boat . . . but if they’re having a meal, she’ll be in the cabin, won’t she? And there’s no saying the Trelawneys are still drunk now, even if they were on Christmas Day. I think the best thing to do is to give them a knock and ask them, all friendly like and unsuspicious, if they’ve seen owt of a young girl with a long golden plait? That way they’ll not be uneasy because o’ the fleeces and we may get a straight answer out of them.’

So a few moments later the three of them walked
boldly along the towpath, not attempting to lower their voices or muffle their footsteps. Jake leaned over and banged on the cabin door and the three of them climbed aboard. From within the cabin there came a sharp exclamation and a voice said, ‘She’s come back! Well, I thank God, Reuben, and so should you, because . . .’