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BOOK: The Narrowboat Girl

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‘I daint, for a long time. But I met Darius, remember? And he told me that
someone
was very poorly in hospital . . .’

‘Ah yes.’ Joel laughed.

‘We’ll have to go in the servants’ entrance,’ Maryann said. They went round the back of the house, with the wistaria sprawling across the back. As she glanced across the garden, Maryann’s eye was caught by a figure sitting in a sunny spot near the wall of the rose garden. There was a new bench that had not been there before, and on it sat a figure dressed completely in black.

‘That looks like Mrs Musson,’ Maryann whispered, frowning. ‘The lady of the house. She looks to be in mourning, wouldn’t you say? That hat’s got net on and everything. I wonder – it could be the anniversary of John’s death. That was her oldest son, killed in the war. Or I wonder if Mr Musson . . .’

Someone must have opened the front door as she spoke because there was a sudden frenzied barking and Freddie the fox terrier tore round towards them, followed at a waddling pace by Lily Langtree, the spaniel who had been quite fat when Maryann was working there and had now expanded into a dog of truly corpulent proportions. Little Joel laughed and pointed at them, but other than sniffing at the visitors’ legs and barking loudly the dogs did nothing else except run back round the end of the house.

‘Well, they ain’t changed.’

Inside, they found that not a huge amount had changed among the servants either. She found Mrs Letcombe, looking exactly the same, seated in her little room, dozing over her knitting in the warm afternoon.

‘My dear, it’s very nice to see you,’ she said, kissing Maryann and greeting both Joels warmly. She loved small children, and took little Joel on to her lap immediately. ‘Oh – and this little fellow must have a piece of Cook’s best seed cake. Come on now – we’ll all have a nice cup of tea. Oh, I am glad things have turned out well for you, Maryann. You left in such a hurry, I was rather afraid that Evan drove you away – he was always more forward than he ought to be.’

They filled in the news of the past two years. Evan and Alice had got married, but were still living and working at Charnwood. Sid the gardener had died unexpectedly – ‘His heart, they think,’ Mrs Letcombe said as they all sat at the kitchen table with the tea and cake and little Joel tottering around practising his new walking skills. ‘Otherwise down here, things are really much the same. It’s a settled sort of house. But upstairs—’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh dear me.’

‘What’s happened?’ Maryann said. ‘I saw Mrs Musson – all in black.’

‘Terrible. Only last month. It was Master Roland. Went off to that war in Spain. Upped and went. Said war was the only thing he knew and if he couldn’t make a life here he might as well go back to that. So he went and fought for Franco. He lasted just three weeks.’ She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘That poor, poor boy.’

‘No!’ Maryann let the news sink in. She wanted to weep. The image of him roaring through the quiet countryside on his motorcycle came to her, as if nothing of stillness or quietness could satisfy his troubled mind. ‘How terrible,’ she said. ‘Poor Mrs Musson.’

‘Nothing’ll console her. Two sons gone – there’s only Master Hugh left and somehow she doesn’t seem to have the same affinity with him. Miss Pamela’s married now of course. To a farmer chappie, over near Thame and she seems happy enough.’ She turned to Joel. ‘And what is it you do for a living?’

When he told her, Mrs Letcombe seemed quite taken aback at first, then she laughed. ‘I thought you were looking very brown and sturdy,’ she said to Maryann. ‘Well – I’d never’ve put you down as doing that but you look as if it’s suiting you.’

‘Oh – it is.’ She laughed. ‘Most days, any’ow!’

They spent a very friendly hour in the kitchen and she kissed Maryann again when they left. ‘Come and see us again, won’t you? With all your lovely children as they arrive.’ She chucked little Joel’s cheek as Maryann held him. ‘Sorry you didn’t see anyone else.’

But Maryann was glad. She hadn’t wanted to see Evan or the others especially. As they left she looked down the garden and saw that the bench where Mrs Musson had been sitting was empty, and she was filled with a great sense of poignancy. Handing Joel their son to lift back on to his shoulders she slipped her arm through his. Among so many sad things, so much pain and unhappiness, her own joy seemed miraculous: a hard-won, precariously existing miracle.

‘I’m glad I came to see them,’ she said as they set off along the road. ‘But I don’t think I’ll want to come again.’ She felt oddly lost now, out in the country, without that sinuous line of water to guide her, to show her where she belonged.

‘Today is today,’ she said to Joel suddenly. He looked down at her, not quite sure what she meant. ‘No one can take today away, whatever else happens.’

He did understand. ‘No. Let’s try and make a good tomorrow too.’

‘Come on.’ She squeezed his arm affectionately. ‘Let’s get back to the cut. Let’s go home.’

The Narrowboat Girl

A
NNIE
M
URRAY
was born in 1961 in Berkshire, and graduated from St John’s College, Oxford. In 1991 she won a SHE-Granada short story competetion and was taken on by a literary agent. Her first novel,
Birmingham Rose
was published in 1995. This has been followed by several other bestselling Birmingham sagas including, most recently,
Chocolate Girls
and
Water Gypsies
. She lives in Reading with her husband and four children.

Also by Annie Murray

Birmingham Rose

Birmingham Friends

Birmingham Blitz

Orphan on Angel Street

Poppy Day

The Narrowboat Girl

Chocolate Girls

Water Gypsies

Acknowledgements

Thanks are due in large measure to David Hearmon, owner of
Raven
for so generously sharing his time and expertise, and for his e-mail friendship; to my sister and brother-in-law Julia and Timothy Woodall for their hospitality and help, to Stoke Bruerne Canal Museum and to the staff of Banbury Museum.

I also owe a debt to canal enthusiasts Ray Shill, Wendy Freer and the Birmingham Canal Navigations Society for their publications. Above all, thank you to Sheila Stewart for her wonderful book about life on the cut –
Ramlin Rose
.

For my daughter, Katie

First published 2001 by Macmillan
and in paperback 2001 by Pan Books

This edition published 2005 by Pan Books

This electronic edition published 2010 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-330-52791-0 PDF
ISBN 978-0-330-52790-3 EPUB

The right of Annie Murray to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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