Water Gypsies (45 page)

‘I could always tell with you. You had too much spirit, too much defiance, my girl. No doubt these little lovelies have your spirit – so let’s snuff that out, shall we? Stop it spreading any further. Women with spirit – with their pretty faces and their cruel mouths.’

Maryann threw herself on him, trying to pull his arm back, to get the lamp from him.

‘Sally, Rose – wake up!’ she screamed. ‘ Get out – get the twins out of bed!’

‘Sally and Rose had begun to stir.

‘Quickly –
get out!’
She was screaming at them hysterically, but he shoved her off and once more she crashed into the stove. As she fought to get back towards the children she could see what he was about to do, jerking the lamp outwards, swinging it by its handle. She saw it arc to the furthest point, then begin the path back towards the ceiling over the bed.

‘Sally!’ In that second all she could seize hold of was her daughter’s hand to pull on as the lamp hit the ceiling. The glass shattered and burning oil burst from it and scattered flaming over the bedspace where Rose lay with the twins.

Forty-Five

The cabin was full of smoke. No sound but that of screaming. The darkness was broken by the glow of flames licking round the bedding of the terrified children.

Immediately Maryann felt the normal passing of time alter. In those first elongated seconds she was shrieking at Sally, ‘Get the doors open – get yourself out! Rose! Get up out of bed! Quick!’ Sally tumbled from the bed onto her feet in the small space.

They were hampered by the obstructing bulk of Norman Griffin. Whichever way Maryann tried to move, he was in the way, though she could tell he too was trying to get out, away from the fire. Iron-limbed with fear and determination she turned her body and shoved at him, and in the darkness he seemed to give way, to disappear with a crash towards the door. She heard a yelp of pain, a muffled curse. She didn’t care what happened to him as long as he was out of the way. The smoke was thickening, the small space filling with it fast. Coughing, she seized Rose’s shoulders and steered her towards the cabin door. Norman Griffin seemed to have gone.

‘Get on the bank with Sally – I’m getting the twins…’

Her eyes were streaming. The smoke was fast filling the tiny space and she was racked by coughing. All she could hear was the terrified screaming of the two little ones in the burning bed. The edge of the curtains had caught light, but Maryann shoved them aside and climbed onto the edge of the bed, seeing both of the babies’ faces, each end of the bed, mouths open in the murky orange light. Most of the oil had fallen in the middle of the bed and flames were shooting up to the low ceiling. The heat was intense, but she leaned inside, regardless.

‘Come here!’ she shouted, reaching for Esther, trying to hold her head to one side while the flames leapt hungrily at her. She could feel the bite of them on her cheek and neck. She snatched Esther out, plonked her on the floor and immediately went back for Ada. As she reached for her, she heard her crying, in between choking coughs, with a distressed shrillness that she’d never heard before. She picked her up, and Ada racked up her screaming even higher.

Maryann balanced her on one hip and reached down for Esther, dragging her to the door by one arm. Within a second she was aware of a strange glow accompanying her, then a burning pain in her right ear and realized her hair was on fire. Loosing Esther she swiped at it, panicking, coughing, her hand smarting, until the flames seemed to have died out. All she could do now was get the three of them up the step into the night air. The twins were gagging on the smoke.

She managed to lift the girls off the boat and onto the bank, setting them down to bend over and cough and cough, her lungs straining for air. She gradually became aware of people moving round her, of voices amid the children’s crying. The fire had brought others out from their boats who were shouting to each other to fetch buckets and dippers. But as she straightened up she heard Joel’s voice, and Charlie’s and Sally and Rose shrieking to them, that there was
fire,
fire on the
Theodore.

‘Our boat – and our lassies!’ Joel was distraught, couldn’t seem to see the girls in front of him.

‘I’ll get them off!’ Charlie shouted. He was fully primed to help, to do something. They’d let Norman Griffin slip through their fingers, and now this! ‘Where’re the lads?’

‘On the motor,’ Maryann said, and realized with amazement that Joley and Ezra inside the
Esther Jane
must be sleeping through, oblivious to all this. ‘The girls are all out – look, here,’ Maryann managed to say. Sally and Rose came to her and clung round her, beginning to cry now the immediate danger to them was over and she stood stroking them, beginning to tremble all over herself. Joel had run to the boat, seized the dipper from inside and joined the others who were trying to douse the fire.

‘It was
him!
He did it – set the fire – he’s gone …’

‘Griffin?’ Charlie Dean demanded. ‘ What – he came here? Where is he? Where did he go?’

‘That way – he ran off along the path,’ Sally said, pointing.

Charlie was off. ‘ I’ll get him this time,’ floated back as he disappeared. I’ll get that bugger and I won’t let him go.’

Charlie tore along the dark towpath. He was a strong, fit man and fuelled by an almost insane, rage-filled energy, which stemmed from his soft feelings for Maryann and from the memory of that child on the bed in the room above the butcher’s shop. He knew they’d been made proper fools of, letting Norman Griffin get away the first time. He ran tirelessly, almost as if he was flying, were it not for his feet crunching on the stones and cinders. There was a half moon tonight, which he could see reflected in the cut, and it seemed to bob about as he ran.

I’ll get you this time.
He’d given them the slip once, the slimy bastard, and he wasn’t getting away again. That lumbering hulk of a bloke couldn’t’ve got far in this time, surely? Charlie stumbled on something in the darkness and only just managed to stay upright. The jerking this gave his body only increased his anger. His lungs were pumping hard.

It can’t be far,
he thought.
There must be a place where he gets off the path – I’ve got to get to him before he gets there or he’ll be gone and I’ll’ve had it then.

And a moment later he thought he heard something along the path ahead. Charlie stopped immediately. Now his feet were not pounding the ground, his own breathing sounded terribly loud. Yes, a cough from up ahead, and the sound of hurrying feet. He ran on, trying to be quiet, almost tiptoeing, gaining quickly until he could see a form moving, a deeper smudge of black in the darkness around them.

They hadn’t got the fire on the
Theodore
under control yet. Smoke was pouring out of the door. Maryann watched hopelessly as she began to see flames burning their way through the roof, despite the efforts of Joel and the other boatmen. Maryann and the women tried to comfort the children, but while Sally, Rose and Esther were calmer now, Ada continued to give off agonized wails. Maryann was holding her and she’d screamed even more loudly on being picked up.

‘What’s up, Ada?’ she said, despairingly. ‘I can’t see if she’s got burnt or summat. She just won’t stop blarting.’

‘Bring her into our cabin,’ a woman next to her offered. ‘And the others. I’ll find a drop of milk for them.’

She was a middle-aged woman with the prematurely aged, weather-worn face of so many of the boatwomen and large, kindly blue eyes. She ushered them all into her cabin. Most of her children had grown up and gone, she told Maryann. There was only one son left, working their pair with them. She signalled to Maryann to put Ada down on the table. It was immediately obvious what the problem was.

‘Oh, Ada!’ Maryann cried.

‘Ooh – that’s a nasty ’un,’ the woman said as they both leaned over the long, angry burn on Ada’s leg. ‘My word, you’re lucky it didn’t set her clothes afire!’

‘I don’t know what to put on it,’ Maryann said.

‘Here – we’ll put a shaking of flour over it,’ the woman said. That’ll help dry it up.’ She produced a rusty tin and scooped out a couple of spoonfuls of flour, dusting it over Ada’s leg, which made her scream even more. Maryann watched helplessly, though she was glad of the older woman’s confidence in what she was doing.

‘Let’s give them all a nice drop of milk,’ the woman said. I’ve just got some in, lucky for you.’

Charlie could hear Norman Griffin’s rasping breaths along the path in front of him.
You’re struggling, mate,
Charlie thought, triumphantly.
Not so young, are you? Bet you’re not used to running.
Charlie felt like a superior, strong animal closing in on its prey. He was gaining on him fast, that inky, lumbering patch of movement. As he drew closer, he could just see Norman Griffin’s coat tails flapping behind him like slipped wings.

Charlie felt a further surge of energy as he closed in. He stretched out his arm, straining to reach him, clawing at Norman Griffin’s shoulder.

‘I’ll have you!’ he roared and with a final effort threw himself forward onto the man, hurtling into his back and flinging him face down onto the ground. Norman Griffin went down with a loud grunt and Charlie fell sprawling on top of him.

‘Got you!’ Charlie roared, scrambling up, but remaining bent over the prone figure. ‘You needn’t think you’re going anywhere now, you bastard.’

There was no immediate reaction. He saw Norman Griffin’s head lift and jerk from side to side, then there came a long, groaning inhalation as he tried to fill his winded lungs. He pushed desperately to sit up, to be able to breathe after his severe winding.

‘Get up,’ Charlie said. He watched over him with a feeling of power mingled with revulsion. What a foul wretch he was!

Norman braced himself, panting hard, struggling to stand and slowly lurched to his feet, but remained bent over, crumpled.

‘They’ll put you away for a long time,’ Charlie said contemptuously. ‘You’re disgusting.’ The man was a mess, hanging over like that, limp at the waist as if he couldn’t straighten. He’d have to get him back to the wharf. Get the police – see if they could manage to keep their hands on him this time.

The few seconds it took Norman Griffin to rally took Charlie completely by surprise. Righting himself in an instant, he ran at Charlie, who had no time to brace himself. Propelled by a great shove from Norman Griffin, he skittered backwards and over the bank, hitting the black, moonstruck water, which closed over him, cold and filthy, filling his ears, eyes, mouth. For a second all was darkness and confusion in the muffled underwater world, but the cut was shallow. Charlie pushed himself furiously to his feet, above the water, spitting out the oily brew. He coughed, and cursed with rage. Norman Griffin was once again in flight along the path.

‘I’ll get you – you needn’t think you’ll get away!’

Clothes streaming, he hauled himself up onto the path, weighed down by his sodden garments. He could hear Norman Griffin’s footsteps receding in the distance and, boots squelching, Charlie hurled himself along the path after him.

He soon caught up again, just as Norman Griffin turned off the path and began to scramble up through the nettles on the bank. No wonder they’d never seen him come and go on the wharf: he had this other way down!

‘No you don’t!’ All he could do was throw himself on the man’s legs, gripping on to his left ankle with all his strength. Norman Griffin kicked viciously, trying to shake him off, but Charlie gripped on, trying to pull himself up the man’s body as if climbing a pole.

‘Get off me – don’t touch me!’ Norman Griffin’s shrill words came to Charlie, the voice almost a squeal. He was struggling like a pig at the slaughterhouse, and Charlie was astonished by his strength. As he got a grip further up the man’s legs. Norman Griffin began to punch him, blows cracking into his cheek, smashing open his lip. Enraged by the pain, Charlie hauled himself up and lay on top of the older man, pinning him down.

‘You fucking bastard!’ he screamed into Norman Griffin’s face. He could feel blood running down his chin. ‘I’m going to make sure they lock you up and throw away the key!’

He barely got the words out as the hands locked around his throat. Charlie didn’t even manage to inhale first and within seconds he was in trouble, chest straining, body crying out for air. His throat was held in an agonizing vice and he knew that if he didn’t save himself that instant he was going to die.

Drawing on all his strength, he managed to fling his weight forward and clamp his hands on each side of Norman Griffin’s head, which he lifted, then smashed down again onto the ground as hard as he could. For a second there was no reaction. He couldn’t see the expression on the man’s face in the gloom, but the grip on his throat slackened and Norman Griffin’s arms, as if controlled by a separate life of their own, flopped to the ground. Charlie sobbed in gulps of air, gagging from the injury to his throat. He staggered to his feet, hands at his neck to try and ease the pain and landed a vicious kick at Norman Griffin’s ribs.
‘You fucker, you nearly bloody killed me!’
he rasped.

As his first crisis of needing to breathe calmed, he began to sense the silence in the other man. Kneeling down in sudden panic, he peered at him. He found he was starting to get the shakes.

‘Here, come on – wake up!’ he croaked. He’d only wanted to get him off – had to, didn’t he? To save himself. Close up, he could see that Norman Griffin’s one good eye was closed. He was out cold.

‘Oh Jesus – God Almighty.’ It was an agony to speak. He was in a real panic now though. ‘Come on.’ He slapped at Norman’s face. ‘Get yourself up, will you!’ Stopping, he listened for the man’s breathing, but could make out nothing. His heart? He groped for what he thought was the right spot under the man’s heavy coat. Again, he couldn’t feel anything. Wasn’t there supposed to be a spot where you could feel a pulse? Fumbling around Norman’s wrist, he had no more success. He stood up, filled with panic.