The Narrowboat Girl (46 page)

She stroked his face. After a week at Nance’s his cheeks were covered by a down of gingery hair. ‘Your beard’s coming back. You’re starting to look right again.’

He laughed. ‘That’s nice to know.’ His arm pulled her even closer and they kissed. Their bodies were pressed together and in panic she realized how aroused he was. ‘That’s not the only thing that’s coming back,’ he murmured.

She stiffened and he sensed it immediately.

‘It’s all right.’ He kissed her flushed cheek, drawing back a little, and stroked her hair. ‘It’s awright, little ’un. I ent going to force myself on you without your say so. It just shows how much I love you, that’s all.’ He kissed her face in between talking to her. ‘You’re my little bird and I don’t want you flying away. Just let me love you a bit tonight – bit by bit. I want you to love me too – not to find me horrible.’

She felt herself relax at his assurances. This was Joel – she had always been able to trust him.

‘Oh Joel – I could never find you horrible. And I know how long you’ve waited. It’s just – we ain’t married and I’m – I’m a bit frightened of it . . .’

‘I know . . . I know. But don’t be frightened, lovely one . . . You’re meant to like it.’

Gently, slowly, he began to love her body into life. She was moved by his desire for her as he stroked her.

‘Your hands are softer these days,’ she said.

‘Oh – that won’t last long on ’ere!’

She began to relax as he ran his hands under her slip and touched her breasts. Gradually he pulled the slip down and kissed her and the sensation made her gasp. Excitement rose in her, sudden and strange. For a moment her mind rebelled – no, no, it was wrong to feel this, it was horrible! And she tensed, but when he continued to touch her and she saw the pent-up pleasure and need in his face she tried to relax. No, it wasn’t wrong. It had to be right. She and Joel could make it right.

She clung to him, stroking him. ‘Oh Joel . . . oh . . .’

‘It’s all right—’ He moved his hand between her legs and she flinched, then forced herself to relax. All the vile poking and prodding that Norman Griffin had done flashed back to her for those moments and she moaned, forcing her eyes open.

‘It’s all right, my love,’ he kept saying. ‘I don’t want to hurt you – just to love you . . . love you, little bird . . .’

After a time he leaned close, his breathing very quick. ‘Can I – please?’

She knew she couldn’t refuse him. She loved him too much to refuse him anything and she gave a tiny nod. She must do it for him.

That first moment, feeling the weight of him and his moving inside her she almost screamed, but she watched him, seeing the love in his face, the way he didn’t abandon her for his own pleasure but stayed with her, looking into her eyes. ‘My love . . . my love,’ he gasped. ‘Oh my little love . . .’ When he had reached his climax he kissed her again and again, and they lay holding one another tenderly.

Maryann was full of wonder, of relief. They’d done it! She knew it was something every married woman had to get over with. And it was going to be all right. With Joel it could be. She could be married in every sense, and not have to dread any part of it.

She woke next morning before dawn, cramped and stiff, and lay looking round, for a few moments, beside Joel’s warm back. There was very little to see, but she could just make out the dark shape of the range and hear Darius breathing loudly on the other bench. She was here, on the
Esther Jane
! It was really going to be her home. How long would it be before she could stop pinching herself and really believe it?

And last night – Oh Lor’, she thought. Did I really . . .? The thought that they’d fallen asleep and Darius must have come back and found them both side by side and dead to the world was mortifying. But this was outweighed by her happiness. She smiled, sleepily. It’ll be all right, I can love him – I can be a normal woman! It was really too late to worry about Darius now. The next night she’d suggest sleeping on the other bed. But she found herself hoping Darius would refuse to let her.

She kissed Joel’s warm back, then eased herself off the bed, pulled her clothes on in the dark and crept out, taking the bowl to relieve herself, thankful that there was little sound from anywhere around. Then she went back in and lit the lamp and got the range going to put a kettle on and by the time she’d done that, Darius was up and she heard others around them beginning to stir.

‘We need to be on our way,’ Darius said. ‘I’m going to get her going.’

Maryann got a huge shock when Darius started the engine. It felt all wrong without old Bessie hauling away on the bank. He had said the boat vibrated, but when all the china in the cabin started rattling and she felt as if she was being shaken up inside a salt cellar, she realized life was going to be very different from when the
Esther Jane
had Bessie pulling them serenely through the water. Soon she could also smell the acrid fumes from the funnel as well as the constant phut-phutting sound of the engine. It woke Joel.

‘It’s
horrible
,’ she said, dismayed. ‘How on earth’re we s’posed to get used to this?’

Joel didn’t look too happy either. ‘Darius says you do get used to it after a bit. Thing is, Maryann – it’s this or selling her altogether. At least we’ve got our home, eh?’

‘I s’pose so,’ she conceded, handing him a cup of tea. She smiled shyly, kissing him. ‘Our home. That sounds nice, don’t it?’

Darius swung in through the door. ‘We’ll untie and be off now—’

The boat seemed to make a lot of noise starting off, but when they were moving, she settled down to a more regular sound. They eased away from the other moored boats. Joel stood at the stern, watching in amazement in the pale dawn light.

They were just straightening up to move off when they all heard a cry from on the bank, a voice shouting with all its strength, ‘
Maryann! Darius!
’

‘My God—’ Maryann peered through the door out into the dim light. ‘That sounds like Nancy!’

‘
Wait! Don’t go – wait, wait!
’

Darius instantly steered the
Esther Jane
towards the bank where Nancy was frantically shouting and running to keep up with them. He brought her in rather awkwardly and they bumped the side, almost causing Maryann to fall over.

Nance was panting so hard she could scarcely speak. Darius held out his hand and she jumped in.

‘Nance – what the hell’re yer playing at?’ Maryann was quite annoyed. She’d said her goodbyes – that was that. Why spin it out even longer? She saw, though, that Nance had a fresh shiner on her left eye, which was only half open.

In any case, it was not Maryann Nance wanted to speak to. All her attention was fixed on Darius. ‘I ’aven’t slept a wink!’ she panted. ‘It’s no good – I’m coming with yer! ’E gave me this as a present last night—’ She pointed at her eye. ‘I ain’t never going back, Darius – it’s you I want to be with – for ever!’

Darius’s face took on a look of wonder and disbelief. ‘But . . .’ he stuttered. ‘Nance – you, I mean . . .’

‘Nance – what’re you saying?’ Maryann asked her. ‘What about Mick – I mean, you said you’d never . . .?’

‘I know what I said. I married ’im, I took vows in church and I can’t divorce ’im and I’m most likely damned into the bargain. But it’s you I love, Darius. I’ve never felt the way I feel when I’m with you –
ever
before. I’ve only got one life and I can’t spend it with ’im when I can hardly stand the sight of ’im and ’e knocks me about and there’ll be no babbies neither. It ain’t a marriage, it’s a prison sentence. If you’d not come along, Darius, I might never’ve known I could fall in love. I know we can’t make it legal and regular but out ’ere it don’t seem to matter. It’s you I want to spend my life with – if you’ll ’ave me.’

‘If I’ll have
you
?’ Darius said. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He handed the tiller to Joel and pulled Nance into his arms. ‘How can you even ask, girl?’ He was laughing with sheer joy.

‘Flamin ’ell, Nance!’ Maryann was only just beginning to take in what had happened. ‘Joel – this family’s getting bigger every minute.’

Nance, laughing and crying at once, hugged each of them in turn. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m going to wake up any moment!’

‘Well,’ Darius took command of the
Esther Jane
once more, ‘let’s get going before you do.’

With the water churning behind them, they weaved their way through the shadowy Birmingham Cut and out towards the fresher country air.

Forty-Seven

December 1934

The day of their wedding, Maryann woke in the little house where she and Joel were staying with old Darius’s sister in Oxford. Joel’s father was still in poor health and was staying on the bank for the forseeable future.

Maryann had been given a bed upstairs and Joel was sleeping on an old sofa down in the tiny back room. She could see that the sun was shining brightly behind the curtains and she climbed out of bed, shivering as she pulled her woolly on and then going to draw back the curtain. The sight that met her eyes made her laugh with pleasure. It was a diamond-hard, cold day, creaking with ice and from the roof hung huge icicles glinting in the bright sunlight. The rooftops were white and the tree she could see a little way along the street looked as if it had been dipped in icing sugar. She couldn’t have asked for better than this sparkling white perfection.

Old Mrs Simons, Joel’s aunt, had married away from the cut and spent her wedded life in Oxford, where her late husband had a grocer’s shop. She was a diminutive lady with scrubbed pink cheeks, little spectacles and she wore black, old-fashioned bombazine dresses with white lace collars. She was delighted that Joel and Maryann had decided to be married at St Barnabas Church, just a couple of streets away, and where she attended regularly.

‘Now, moy dear,’ she said to Maryann later in the morning when they were ensconced together upstairs away from the men and she was helping Maryann dress. ‘Just you stand still so’s I don’t nick you with this.’ She bent over with a needle and thread in one hand, finishing a seam in the woollen dress Maryann had chosen. It was second-hand but in good condition and a lovely violet-blue colour. ‘Looks very nice with your pretty hair.’ Maryann’s hair was fastened back in a shiny, raven twist behind her head, and with her rosy cheeks and bright, happy eyes she looked very beautiful.

Mrs Simons stood back and clasped her hands in front of her breast, her china thimble still on one finger, beaming with excitement. ‘We haven’t had a wedding in this family for such a time – what with all poor Esther’s boys . . . the War, you know. I began to think Joel and Darius’d never settle. . . .’ She drifted off sadly, then regained her state of glee. ‘But it always makes me feel young again, a wedding! Now just you remember, moy dear – they’re good men in this family, good sound men. But sometimes you do have to take a firm hand with them.’

‘Do you?’ Maryann asked, surprised.

‘Oh yes.’ Mrs Simons neatly packed away her needles and thread. ‘Give ’em half the chance and they treat you like a man – like a
packhorse
, moy dear, to tell the truth – have you toiling day and night. Just remember to get Joel to treat you proper, however much strovin’ there is to be done. You ’ave to pull your weight of course, on the cut, but don’t let ’im forget you’re a woman for a moment, that’s my advice – specially when you’re carrying a child. Nothing worse for child-bearing than toiling like an animal day in day out. Saw my mother’s life come to an end through it, so I should know.’

‘I’ll try.’ Maryann smiled.

She had a smart, royal blue hat with a white feather in it to top off her outfit, and blue shoes with an elegant heel.

‘I suppose this is the last time I’ll feel this smart in many a year.’ She laughed.

‘Well, you’re realistic, I’ll give you that,’ Mrs Simons said. She squeezed Maryann’s hand and stood on tiptoe to kiss her. ‘Joel’s a good boy – always has been. I hope you’ll be very happy, moy dear, and have a big, healthy family.

It was unconventional, she knew, but as she had no one there in the way of family, Maryann asked old Mr Bartholomew to walk up the aisle with her and present her to his son. She did feel rather wistful that morning. Even Tony wasn’t going to travel all the way down from Birmingham, although he had written her a letter. She knew there was no question of her mother coming. But Nancy and Darius were there, Nancy acting as her ‘assistant’.

‘I don’t know whether I’m a bridesmaid or a matron of honour!’ Nance joked.

She and Darius were working another of Samuel Barlow’s boats and had managed to reach Oxford that morning by the skin of their teeth in time for the wedding.

And old Darius Bartholomew seemed delighted that Maryann was marrying Joel. ‘I’d ’ardly’ve known you,’ he said, looking her up and down when he first saw her. ‘You was only a child when last I saw you.’

She would have known him anywhere. He was certainly shrunken and more stooped in stature compared with how she had first seen him, but his beard and bushy white eyebrows and his tanned, leathery features were unmistakable. He was rather splendidly dressed in an ancient suit which shone with wear, a red cravat in the neck of his shirt. She remembered how intimidating she had found him in the past. Now she felt only respect and fondness. It felt absolutely right when he took her arm and led her along the aisle while the organ was playing the wedding march, and she saw Joel dressed up – for the first time ever probably – in a black suit, his beard trimmed, waiting for her before the altar. Mr Bartholomew gallantly handed her to his waiting son with an expression of great solemnity. Maryann was surprised to find that her legs were trembling so much she could barely stand.

When they came out, their few well-wishers sprinkled them with rice and Joel kissed her in the doorway of the church as the others watched and cheered. A man took their photograph.

Nance kissed her enthusiastically, almost knocking both their hats off in the process. Nance’s was perched precariously on her curls.