The Narrowboat Girl (35 page)

‘I think it’s time to leave him now, dear.’ Her kindness terrified Maryann more than brusqueness would have done. It seemed to indicate that she was sure Joel was going to die.

‘If only I could stay with ’im—’ She found it unbearable to tear herself away from his hand. ‘D’yer think – will ’e last the night?’

Her gaze not meeting Maryann’s, the sister said, ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you that.’

She stepped out of the ward as if into another world. It was late afternoon and sultry, the air full of acidic smells from the battery factory near by. She turned away from the city and walked numbly towards Lodge Hill Cemetery, stepping in through its gates to the tranquillity of flowerbeds and trees and gravestones. She made her way to the two graves which belonged to her, not side by side but not far apart, each with a modest headstone.

‘H
AROLD
N
ELSON
– 1892–1926’ she read, and then, ‘S
ALLY
A
NNE
G
RIFFIN
– 1913–1928’.

The sight of Sal’s gravestone brought all her rage and hurt to boiling point. Griffin! Her mom had buried Sal under that bastard’s name – the one who’d all but killed her himself.

‘How could she have done it?’ She found herself kicking at the stone, screaming out her pain and fury. ‘How could she, how
could
she?’

Not even looking to see if anyone was about, past caring, she sank to her knees and rested her head on Sal’s grave, sobbing. ‘Oh Sal . . . oh God . . . sis . . . sis . . .’ The memory of that night she had found Sal filled her mind, of the day her dad died, and then Joel, lying there, hardly seeming to be alive even now. Would she be visting him here too, having no one to talk to but the graves of all the people she loved? She curled up tight by Sal’s grave, smelling the earth close to her face, and cried until she could cry no more.

Thirty-Six

Nance only had to look at Maryann’s face when she got back.

‘Oh Maryann – ’e’s not . . .?’

She came to greet her, anxiously wringing a cloth in her hands. The bruising had spread round Nance’s lip but the sight of her friend pulled her mind right away from her own troubles. Maryann sank down at the table.

‘No. But I don’t think—’ She looked up at Nance, her eyes filling again even though she thought she’d cried all the tears she was capable of. ‘They don’t think ’e’ll last the week – maybe not even the night. ’E hardly seems to be breathing. I can’t bear it, Nance . . .’

‘Oh Maryann, no!’

Nance pulled the other chair round and perched on it beside her, clasping Maryann’s hands in her rough ones as her friend poured out her feelings.

‘I was hoping ’e’d be better today, but he couldn’t even open his eyes and look at me. It almost seemed he was dead already. Oh and ’e’s got no one with ’im – I wish they’d’ve let me stay with ’im!’

‘What about ’is family? Ain’t there anyone round about for ’im?’

‘No – there’s only Darius, his brother and ’e’s—’ She got abruptly to her feet. ‘Darius! I must let ’im know ’ow bad things are. I don’t know if ’e can make it but I’ll ’ave to give ’im the chance to try. Have you got a bit of paper I could write ’im a note on?’

Nancy managed to find a scrap of paper and left Maryann with it at the table while she went out to see if she could beg an envelope off one of the neighbours. She soon came back with one and Maryann addressed it to Tooley’s Yard in Banbury and ran out to post it. Someone would have to read it to Darius – if he was still there. She told him in the note that she’d leave her address for him at the toll office at Farmer’s Bridge. She slipped it into the box, praying Joel would hang on. The thought made her cry all over again.

She went to the hospital the next day, sick with dread. But she found Joel in much the same state as he had been in the day before. She sat beside him, willing him with all her strength and love to hold on to life.

‘I’ll be here, Joel, waiting for you, praying for you. Just don’t leave me – I love you.’

She could hardly bear to let go of his hand and go away, she was so afraid that she might not see him alive again. She was living from moment to moment. Thinking about the future was impossible. She couldn’t face it now without Joel.

That evening she went to find Tony, waiting at the end of Sheepcote Lane, hoping she could intercept him before he reached home. She stood watching both ends of the street, afraid she would not be able to recognize him and full of misgiving that if she did see him he would reject her just as angrily as her mother had.

At last when he appeared she knew immediately who he was. He turned into the road, walking briskly, whistling, a small canvas bag slung over one shoulder, his jacket slung back over the other. His boots and clothes were pale with dust and smears of cement, his cap was pushed far back on his head, showing a dark-eyed face which was also covered in muck. He was much bigger, just about her own height, quite grown up into a wiry, muscular lad. When he drew nearer and caught sight of her, he stopped in mid-whistle.

‘’Ello, Tony.’

He came nearer. She couldn’t read his expression, except that it didn’t hold surprise. Her mom must have told him she’d been back. ‘Maryann?’

She was full of emotion, remembering the little boy she had left sleeping the night she ran away. ‘I s’pose you thought I was never coming back.’

‘Well – I dunno. I mean it’s been—’ He shrugged, looking down at the ground, awkward, and embarrassed by her emotion. ‘Mom said you’d been to see ’er.’

‘It’s a wonder she could bring ’erself to mention my name,’ Maryann said bitterly. ‘What did ’er say?’

‘Not much. Said yer wouldn’t be coming again.’

Maryann wiped her eyes and looked into his face. ‘What about you, Tony? You angry with me too?’

She saw a flicker of hostility, then sorrow in his dark eyes. She could sense his confused loyalties. ‘Dunno. No. Not really.’

‘And
he
left then? Norman?’

Tony nodded, raising his head. ‘Mom said it were your fault.’ He sounded angry, despite his denial. ‘We had to come back down ’ere—’ He jerked his head to indicate the lane. ‘Why did yer do it, Maryann? I know ’e weren’t our dad but ’e weren’t all that bad. What did yer ’ave to go and ruin everyfing for?’

It was Maryann’s turn to look away, shame rising in her, the blood rushing to her cheeks. Her tears started to fall. How could she tell Tony what Norman Griffin had done to her and Sal – above all to Sal? How could she speak like that to her little brother? Little Tony who spoke in a gruff man-boy voice, who still couldn’t say his ‘th’s properly?

‘I’m sorry, Tony . . .’ She couldn’t help crying however hard she tried, and she stood in front of him weeping there in the street. ‘I’m sorry – I had to go.
I had to do it
. . . I can’t explain it to yer.’

‘Why not? Don’t yer think I’m grown up enough to be told what’s going on, eh? I feel like a right bloody mug I do. I’m old enough to keep food on the table but I ain’t old enough to be told anyfing. ’Ow about letting me in on a few fings, eh?’

‘Ssh – oh Tony, please be quiet!’ Maryann seized his arm. ‘Don’t – not in the street. I don’t want people staring and gossiping. Look – come for a walk with me, away from ’ere.’

‘I’ll come,’ Tony said, on his dignity. ‘But you’d better be straight with me, Maryann. So far as Mom’s concerned you were the ruin of the family. It ain’t how I remember yer or think of you, but you’d better ’ave summat to say to me.’ Suddenly he seemed near tears himself. She wanted to put her arms round him as she had done when he was little, but knew she mustn’t.

‘Oh Tony – I will tell you. Only you have to promise me you’ll believe what I say. Mom never would – that’s why I had to go in the end. I couldn’t stand telling you if you start saying I’m a liar.’

She led him, as if automatically, to the place where they could squeeze through down to the cut, and they walked side by side away from town, breathing in the murky smell of the canal, reflections shifting on the water’s surface. She found it very difficult to talk. What had happened in the past had been buried in her for so long that at first she skirted round and round what she needed to say and at last she blurted it out clumsily, knowing she owed Tony the truth.

‘You daint know – you were too little. I know Mr Griffin took us to the pictures and we always had enough and didn’t go short, but there was another side to him, Tony. A filthy, wicked side. And it was Sal had the worst of it. He was . . . he was . . .’ Oh God, how could she say it?

She forced herself to glance round at her brother. He was watching his feet, a slight frown on his face. Maryann took in a huge, ragged breath and forced herself to go on, telling him, explaining, indirectly at first, then, uncertain if he knew what she meant, in more detail. The memories came back, raw and sickening. She stopped walking and sobbed out to him how she’d found Sal that day.

‘He destroyed her. Week by week. He killed her from inside, Tony. That’s what happened to your sister. She took her own life because she couldn’t stand living no more after him and what it did to her. She thought she was expecting a babby as well, Tony – you won’t’ve known that. And I . . . d’you know, that night I went down there I daint ’ave a plan. I knew I was going to do summat, I was so full of grief and anger for Sal but I daint know what. And then when I saw what I saw down there – I went mad. I was ready to do him in – destroy him and everything that was his. That was when I started the fire, and then I had to go—’ Tears on her cheeks, she begged her brother, ‘Don’t say you don’t believe me, Tony. Please don’t. It’s the truth – I swear to you on my life!’

She could see just how much she’d got through to him. Tony’s thin face looked stunned. Eventually he said, ‘Did Mom know?’

‘I told ’er. I kept trying to say, but she daint want to ’ear it. All she wanted to see was the respectable side of him. I s’pose she shut it out of her mind. She was scared to frighten him off. In the end I did it for ’er.’

They stood in the dusk on the canal bank. Maryann found she could not look into his eyes. She felt dreadful after what she had had to tell him. Tony was silent for a time and she ached to know what he was thinking. At least he hadn’t rejected her story straight away and told her she was a filthy liar. She sensed he was thinking hard.

‘I fink I remember,’ he said eventually. ‘Yes – I do.’

‘What?’

‘Him – Griffin – coming in – of a night. When you and Sal was in the bed. It feels like a dream – but I know ’e was in there sometimes – on your bed. I remember the creaking and his voice in there.’

‘Oh Tony! D’you really – you remember that?’

‘I remember the bed squeaking – and ’im breathing and saying fings to yer.’

‘Oh thank God!’ Maryann cried. It was then, at last, she went and put her arms round him. ‘Someone who knows I’m not making it up – oh Tony . . . I’m so happy to see you again. I’ve missed you so much – you and Billy, but especially you. I’ve been so lonely without you.’

He was awkward in her embrace at first. But then he dropped his jacket and bag on to the dry ground and his arms came round her as she cried.

‘Did you get my letters?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the little cat I left on yer pillow?’

‘Yes—’ He sounded embarrassed. He was crying too.

‘’Ve you still got it somewhere?’

She pulled back and looked at him. Tony nodded, quickly wiping his eyes on the back of his hands.

‘See – I was always thinking of you. Tony?’

‘What?’

‘What d’you call yourself – Nelson or Griffin?’

‘Griffin.’ He looked at her, ashamed, then said quietly, ‘But not any more, Maryann. Never. Not after what you’ve told me.’

They walked on through the half-light, talking much more easily now. Maryann told Tony about Charnwood House, about the
Esther Jane
and Darius, and that he was so desperate he might have to sell her, and about Joel and how worried she was. And Tony told her something of how it had been after she left.

‘When ’e saw what’d happened – with the fire, he came ’ome and knocked our mom across the kitchen. I copped ’old of Billy and took ’im outside, out the way of mean old man Griffin – ’e was like someone else that day. Frightened us.’

‘He
is
someone else,’ Maryann said grimly. ‘That’s who is really is underneath. Cruel and scheming. I wonder where ’e went to after.’

‘Oh – we know where ’e is,’ Tony told her, almost casually.

‘
Do
you? What – somewhere near by? In Birmingham?’

‘Oh yes – course. Near ’is mom.’

‘Oh my God – she ain’t still alive?’

‘I dunno – she was a while back. ’Er must’ve been nearly ninety then. ’E’s set ’imself up again, over on the Soho Road. The other place was insured, yer know – ’e ain’t no fool.’

‘No,’ Maryann agreed. ‘So our mom knows where ’e is?’

‘Oh ar – I mean when it first happened ’e went and lived with old Mrs Griffin. Mom went over to ’ers a number of times begging ’im to come back but ’e weren’t ’aving it. Said ’e’d had enough and that was that.’

Nothing there for him, Maryann thought grimly. Not without me and Sal. ‘What, so Mom just gave up?’

‘Had to. She wanted money off of ’im but ’e said the family’d already caused him quite enough trouble and she weren’t ’aving a farthing. She come back ever so upset every time but there was nothing ’er could do. She ’ad to come to terms with it – ’e’d gone and that was that. She ’ad to make the best of it and fend for ’erself. So we moved up the old end and got on with it.’

‘But she ain’t going to forgive me, is she?’

‘Not in a hurry, no.’

By now they’d reached the part of the bank in Ladywood where they had to scramble up and climb through the broken fence.

‘It’s him should be paying for all the grief he’s caused – not Mom. Not us either,’ Maryann said, once they were up on the road again. ‘If I could just see ’im, I’d . . .’ But her voice trailed off, hopelessly. What could she do? What did it matter now? The only things that mattered were that Joel was lying in hospital fighting to stay alive, and that she had seen her brother and he forgave her.