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Authors: Katie Flynn

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BOOK: A Mistletoe Kiss
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Agatha felt the hot blood rush to her cheeks once more. How could her mother be so cruel? She knew very well that none of the services would accept a woman with a club foot. She opened her mouth to say so, but before she could speak Mrs Preece got up from her seat and came round the table to put an arm round her daughter's shoulders. ‘Oh, Agatha, I'm so sorry! That was a horrible thing to say, and of course I know very well that you wouldn't dream of joining up and leaving me to take care of myself. Please say you forgive me.'

Agatha was touched. Her mother seldom apologised for the unthinking words she uttered when in a temper. She got carefully to her feet and smiled. ‘Of
course I forgive you. I expect you're longing to meet Mr Galera, and to tell you the truth I am as well, since I can scarcely remember what he looks like,' she lied. ‘And now I really must get a move on, because although Mr Gower will open the lending library for me, and remain downstairs until I arrive, it always puts him in a bad temper. He doesn't really like people, you know, which is why he's the reference librarian, I suppose.' She laughed. ‘Up in the gallery, he doesn't have to mix with the hoi polloi, as Maria and myself do.'

‘And Hetty,' Mrs Preece reminded her daughter, as Agatha finished her toast and began to put on her thick winter coat. ‘She's not moved out to Burscough yet, has she? Only I know there was talk of her doing so when her aunt and uncle rented the house in Birkenhead so that they would be nearer the shipyard. I shall miss Hetty terribly, particularly if she moves away from the city.'

Agatha paused, a hand on the doorknob. ‘I think she'll probably get war work in Birkenhead and continue to live with her aunt and uncle, which will mean she only has to hop on the ferry to be back in Liverpool,' she said comfortingly. ‘After all, if Laird's need workers so badly that they're prepared to take on her aunt, then I should think they'd jump at the chance of employing Hetty.'

‘But you said her aunt was doing some sort of cleaning job,' Mrs Preece pointed out. ‘Hetty's clever; she could be a bookkeeper or – or a typist, I'm sure.'

‘That's right; and working in the shipyard would
certainly count as helping the war effort,' Agatha said. ‘She's coming to the library later today, though, so no doubt she'll be able to tell me what she's decided. She talked to someone at school about getting factory work, but they told her that if she does that she won't be accepted in any of the services when she's old enough to join up … look, Mother, I must fly or I really will be late for work, but I'll ask Hetty to come back here with me for supper, and then we'll both hear what she's decided to do.'

‘And you can share
your
news,' Mrs Preece said complacently. ‘Tell her that your boyfriend's written to say he's coming to see you at last.'

Agatha cast up her eyes and pulled down the corners of her mouth. ‘Very amusing,' she said sarcastically. ‘See you later, Mother!'

Hetty got off the bus at the stop nearest Uncle Matthew's house and heaved her shopping basket and the large sack she carried from one hand to the other. It was a cold day and the fog had not lifted but her coat, though by no means new, was warm and she stood her burdens down for a moment to turn up its big fur collar. It had been a smart coat once, navy blue and tight-fitting, but because of the blackout Hetty, who was not good with her needle, had laboriously stitched a length of white tape round the waist and diagonally across the back and front, so that she could be seen at night.

She reached the cottage but did not attempt to go round the back since she had not told the old people
that she meant to visit them, and always felt it was a bit of an intrusion for someone not expected to walk straight into someone else's home. Instead, she headed for the front door, rapped smartly upon it and entered the small hallway. She made for the kitchen, calling out as she did so: ‘It's only me, Hetty. Are you in, Gran and Gramps?' As she spoke the last few words, she pushed open the door to find her grandmother and Uncle Matthew sitting on either side of the table, methodically slicing runner beans. They smiled a welcome and Gran got up and went to fill the kettle at the sink, whilst Uncle Matthew helped Hetty out of her coat and told her that she had arrived just in time to share their elevenses.

‘How lovely; but where's Gramps?' Hetty said eagerly. ‘Oh, gingerbread; my favourite.' She beamed at her relatives and emptied her shopping bag out on to the table, though she did not attempt to lift the sack which she had stood down as soon as she entered the room. ‘I was passing the greengrocers on Heyworth Street and Mr Gaulton called out to me to pop in for a moment. He wanted to know if I could do with some cooking apples which were past their best, and a big bag of shallots, if I knew someone who didn't mind crying for a week.'

‘Thanks very much, Hetty my love,' Gran said eagerly, beginning to gather up the big green apples. She patted the sack of shallots lovingly. ‘I don't mind shedding a few tears if it means getting jars and jars of onions pickled. But I wonder why the greengrocer couldn't sell 'em?'

‘Apparently folk are holding back from buying vegetables or fruit which needs bottling or pickling, because it's quite hard work and takes time,' Hetty said. ‘I knew Aunt Phoebe wouldn't thank me for giving her extra work even if it did mean lots of pickled shallots and bottled apples, because moving house is far harder than I dreamed it would be. First, we went over to Birkenhead and scrubbed the new house from attic to cellar …'

‘Was it very bad, queen?' her grandmother asked sympathetically. ‘I remember when Gramps and I were first married and took on a little house in Bootle, it was downright filthy; I wouldn't like to say the number of bars of soap we used, nor how many scrub brushes we wore down to the wood before we could move in.'

‘Well, it's done now,' Hetty said. ‘The actual move took place yesterday, and of course as soon as the house in Salisbury Street was empty we had to scrub every floor and clean down everything there, and when I said that the new people would do it, Aunt Phoebe primmed up her mouth and said she wouldn't have folk thinking her a slut … but where
is
Gramps?'

Uncle Matthew was replying that her grandfather had taken some scones to an elderly neighbour when the back door opened and he surged into the room, talking as he came. ‘Dulcie, Matt, we've got a guest to share our elevenses, so put out an extra cup …' He stopped short, staring at Hetty. ‘Well I'm blessed! Here's young Sally Brimelow wanting to get in touch with you, Hetty my love, because she doesn't have
your Birkenhead address, and here you are, large as life and twice as lovely!' He turned back to Sally. ‘Take that coat off, my dear, or you won't feel the benefit when you go out again.'

Hetty smiled at her friend. ‘Hi, Sal. It's lovely to see you. I was going to write out our new address and pop it through your mam's letterbox on my way back from Burscough.' She took another cup from the dresser, and poured milk and tea into it. Sally, having shed her coat and hung it on the hook by the door, accepted the cup, sat down and took a piece of the gingerbread Hetty was offering.

‘Scrumptious,' she said happily, through a full mouth. ‘Hetty, I've gorra proposition to put to you. But first of all I'd better explain what's happened to the
Maid Marian
. You know Mam and Dad retired when the boys took over? Well, when Nat and Ben joined up, Mam, Dad, Uncle Bert and my cousin, Sammy agreed to return to the canal and the
Maid
, because barges will be an important part of the war effort, taking stuff from the docks to the mills and vice versa.'

‘Hang on a minute,' Uncle Matthew said. ‘As I recall, Bert's son must be around eighteen, ain't that so? So surely he'll be called up? Conscription came in months ago.'

‘Sammy's eighteen awright, and a big strong lad, but a trifle simple; tuppence short of a shillin', in fact,' Sally said bluntly. ‘That's why they don't want him in the forces. But on a barge, with his parents who understand him and will take the greatest care of him, Sammy'll be
invaluable. Provided you explain carefully just what you want him to do, he's as useful as any other feller.'

‘I understand,' Hetty said quickly. ‘But what's all this got to do with me, Sal? Or with you, for that matter, since with Sammy to do the heavy work a fifth member of crew would be unnecessary, I'd have thought.'

‘True. But, Hetty, I went to the Company to ask if they had any berths for someone experienced in working on a canal barge and the man who interviewed me asked what I knew about narrow boats. Naturally I said that I imagined they were very similar to the larger boats – the barges – which are used on the Leeds and Liverpool canal, and he said very probably I was right and would I consider a berth aboard one of them. Apparently with all the young men going off to the armed forces there is a dreadful shortage of canal people who know what they're doing, particularly on the Grand Union and Oxford canals. He said that if I could find another young woman who had had boat experience, and one other girl who was eager to learn, then he would be willing for the three of us to take over a boat on the Grand Union, plying between the London docks and Birmingham or the mill towns. He said we'd be issued with special ration books so we wouldn't have to register with a particular shop, and he'd talk to the authorities about us getting extra rations anyway, because some of the work – don't we know it – is very hard and needs a fair amount of strength.

‘And oh, Hetty, I thought of you at once! You've
always loved the canal, and I dare say the Grand Union isn't that different from the Leeds and Liverpool, and I've already got a girl who's keen and has helped out with a boat now and then. Her name's Alice, and if you're agreeable, then I'm to arrange for the three of us to be interviewed by the man at the Inland Waterways HQ who is responsible for getting the crews together. We'll have a practical test aboard, just to make sure that you and I can manage the change from a barge to a narrow boat, and then he'll decide which of the pair of us is sufficiently experienced to act as Number One, though I mean to suggest that you and I take it in turns, as my brothers did. That's if you're interested, of course.'

She reached across the table and grabbed Hetty's hand, her blue eyes fairly blazing with excitement. ‘It's a great opportunity, honest to God it is! If we go into a factory, or join one of the women's services, then we'll spend the war being told what to do – jumping when someone else says jump – but aboard the canal we'll be our own boss, and we'll be helping the war effort far more … oh, more
personally
than if we were stuck in an office or peeling spuds in a cookhouse, like my cousin Cynthia.'

Hetty looked at her relatives, trying to subdue the smile which threatened to break out and give her feelings away. To be in charge of a boat, to help the war effort by using the only expertise she possessed! It was what most girls would give their eye teeth for … but she would hear what Gramps and Gran thought before making up her mind. She looked interrogatively at the
three elderly people seated round the big kitchen table. ‘Well? What do you think? There's been no mention of pay, but I'm sure the authorities wouldn't expect us to do important work for nothing. Gran? As the only lady present – apart from me and Sally – you go first.'

‘Well, if I were you I'd take it on,' Gran said. ‘I just wish you'd be plying on the good old Leeds and Liverpool, but in time of war one goes where one is most needed. Yes, I'd sign on as boat crew if I were you, love.'

‘Gramps?' Hetty said, her smile breaking out, despite her resolve. ‘What do you say?' She shot a glance at Sally, who was raking a hand through her wheat-gold curls, anxiously watching Gramps's thoughtful face.

‘Same as your gran,' Gramps said promptly. ‘Like her, I wish it were the Leeds and Liverpool, because we'd get to see you more often, but beggars can't be choosers. Doubtless you'll get leave, though how they'll arrange it I wouldn't like to guess. When we were on the canal, even a day's holiday had to be planned weeks in advance … but you go ahead and take the practical test, which you'll sail through with flying colours. That's my advice, and I guess Matt here will say the same.'

Uncle Matthew nodded his agreement, his rosy little goblin face creasing into a broad smile. ‘I just wish I'd had a chance to work the canals durin' the last little lot,' he admitted. ‘But I were sent to France wi' the East Lancs regiment, so I were lucky to come out of it wi' a whole skin. You tell'em yes, queen, and I reckon you'll not regret it.'

Hetty promptly shot across the kitchen and hugged her friend exuberantly, then stood back and let out her breath in a long sigh of relief. ‘Phew! I'm so glad we're all agreed, because the minute you mentioned it, Sal, I knew I'd be happier on the canal than I could ever be in a factory or one of the armed forces. I wonder what the big differences will be between a barge and a narrow boat? Apart from the measurements, I mean.'

‘Well, we'll soon find out,' Sally said. She took the cup of tea Gran was holding out and sipped it gratefully. ‘Marvellous, just what I wanted! Thanks, Mrs Hesketh. And now Hetty and meself had best make tracks to the nearest phone box because we need to get in touch with Alice before we can arrange the interview. I wonder how soon it'll be before we're in our new home – and have our orders, of course. Honest, Hetty, I can't perishin' well wait!'

Because of the arrangements the two girls had to make, it was well past her usual time when Hetty arrived at the library. In fact Miss Preece, Miss Thorpe and Mr Gower were leaving the building as Hetty came hurrying up St Domingo Road.

‘Just where have you been, young lady?' Miss Preece asked with mock annoyance as Hetty joined them. ‘I'm used to my little helper arriving in time to put books away and check the files … and today we've had rather a lot of distractions, haven't we, Miss Thorpe?'

BOOK: A Mistletoe Kiss
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