Water Gypsies (27 page)

Maryann cried with her, unable to stop. Poor, lovely Amy! She kept seeing her in her mind’s eye as she had the first time she set eyes on the girls that day in Handsworth Park, those two silent children full of pain and fear, always beautifully turned out by Janet in their matching frocks and hair ribbons. And though she had only seen Amy occasionally since then, she knew she had grown into a kind-hearted and beautiful young woman.

‘They found her up near the hospital two days later. Course I’d reported her missing. I had to go and see her, to identify her as my girl, my baby.’ She was silent for a moment, shaking her head. ‘He’d made such a mess of her.’ Arms folded, she began to rock back and forth in the chair in distress. Unable to bear it, Maryann went to her and put her arms round Janet’s shoulders, rocking her gently. She waited until Janet was a little calmer, then went and refilled the teapot and topped up their cups.

Kneeling beside Janet she looked up into her eyes. ‘It was him, wasn’t it?’

‘No!’ Janet reacted immediately.
‘No.
What’re you
talking
about?’

She looked down into her lap, shaking her head. There was a long silence. Once more, she began to rock, unable to contain her agitation.

‘I’ve been trying not to – to think it. To think about
him.’
Her gentle face twisted with loathing. ‘It could have been anyone who did it. But then it goes round and round in my head. Why would anyone do that to my lovely Amy? They’d have to be insane. An animal.’ Have you seen him since he left?’

Janet shook her head. ‘He just vanished. Never came back. That was what we wanted, of course. Amy and I moved – we needed a fresh start, but not too far from Margaret. I did hear the odd thing about him. One of my old neighbours reckoned she’d seen him, said he was a mess to look at. He closed that business down in Handsworth. I suppose he must have gone and set up somewhere else – done something to make a living for himself. But I haven’t set eyes on him.’

‘I’ve seen him.’ Maryann said. She told Janet how he had come looking for her, about the episode with Pastor James, how he’d tricked that foolish man into believing him, about what happened in the back room of the church.

‘God in heaven!’ Janet laid a hand over her heart. ‘I remember that first day I ever saw him, all upstanding and smart. And I was so desperate I just took to him, just like that. Let him into my life, my family. My God!’ It came out as a howl. ‘Look what I’ve done. What I’ve made happen!’

‘Stop it!!’ Maryann’s voice came out loud and sharp. Rage flamed in her at hearing Janet say the thing she still had to fight against perpetually in herself.
It’s my fault. All my fault. What happened to Sal, to our mom, to Amy and Margaret – all of it. I’m dirty and shameful and always have been. That’s why he did it. I asked for it. It’s all my fault.
Why could she see so clearly that this was not true for someone else when she still, deep down, felt she was not like other people, that she must hide from them? When she still blamed herself?

Leaning down, she looked urgently into Janet’s face. ‘Don’t do that! He’s the one that did all of this –
all
of it! Nothing’s your fault –
only
his. As soon as you start thinking it’s your fault he’s got you!’

‘But what should we do? Whatever can we do?’

‘Tell the police about him.’ Even as she said it, Maryann felt a sense of despair. How could the police ever find him, let alone prove it was him who murdered Amy, however sure she was that he and only he could be responsible? He was so sly, so slippery. None of them knew where he was or even by what name he went these days. She could see that Janet was thinking the same.

‘But his face,’ Maryann said. She stood up, her expression hard and determined. ‘No one else has a face like that. We’ve got to tell them.’

*

The grey-haired police officer looked at her wearily over the counter as she walked into the dingy light of the police station, carrying Ada in her arms.

‘Can I help you?’

Maryann put Ada down and the child instinctively stayed close to her.

‘It’s about…’ Maryann felt shaky, and somehow foolish. It was as if none of this was quite real. That murder. The one in the papers – the girl with the red hair, Amy Lambert. I know who killed her.’

She had his attention now. He stood straighter and his eyes widened, but his expression and the way he rubbed his hand over his chin made her see he was wary of her. Did people come in claiming things like that every day, she wondered?

Trying to steady herself, she gripped the counter. There was a gouged wound in the wood under her right index finger.

‘It was a man called Norman Griffin – least, that’s what he used to call himself.’

She poured out her story, gabbling, desperate for him to believe her. He nodded a lot as she spoke and after a time he pulled his notebook from his pocket and wrote something down, frowning as he did so. When she stopped at last, waiting for something – what? – for him to jump into action, he said, ‘Well thank you, Mrs er…?’

‘Bartholomew.’

‘We’ll follow this up.’

‘Well, I should hope so!’ She burst out, her voice loud and shrill now with frustration. ‘He murdered her, I know he did! And what’re you going to do about it?’

She immediately regretted losing herself as she could see the policeman was thinking she was some silly woman, no doubt funny in the head. Backing away from him, towards the door, she cried, ‘You’ll see. You go and find him! I know it was him!’

Outside she leaned against the wall, taking deep, distraught breaths, holding tightly to Ada’s hand. It was a few moments before she managed to begin walking along the street, trying to tell herself she’d done the best she could. Who else was there to turn to but the police? Surely he had to believe what she’d told him! At least they’d be looking for Norman Griffin, wouldn’t they? He would get what he more than deserved at last.

Standing at the tram stop, her mind raced on. What if they couldn’t find him? What if – the thought sent a spasm of fear through her – what if he went after Janet next? As the tram swayed into view, the thought chilled through her. Was he coming back after all of them now? Was that it?

Twenty-Seven

A shadow fell on Dot as she knelt in the spring sunshine the next morning, splicing a rope in the empty hold of the
Theodore.
She looked up and saw a young man with dark eyes, a swarthy face and thick dark hair falling over his forehead. He had with him a rusty bicycle, poised with its front wheel at the edge of the cut.

‘How do? So you’re one of the new ’uns are you?’

Dot stared back. Something about the way the young man was looking at her, the frank appraisal and twinkle of amusement in his eyes made her feel immediately prickly and self-conscious. She clambered to her feet, feeling plump and ungainly.

‘I suppose I am, if you insist on putting it like that.’

He laughed, not seeming to take offence, laid the bike down with a clatter, climbed in over the gunwales and held out his hand.

‘I’m Bobby. I’ll be crewing with you for a bit.’

Dot shook his hand, stiffly. ‘How d’you do? I’m Dorothy – Dot. And I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Ah – it’s the bits you ent heard that are the best!’ he laughed.

Dot glowered at him. Why did young men with good looks and easy charm like Bobby make her feel so grumpy? As if her skin was being rubbed over with sandpaper. It was made even worse by the fact that he was a boater born and bred. She knew what they tended to make of trainees like herself. Here she was, just beginning to feel she fitted in, and she was going to have to prove herself all over again. And to make it worse, she knew he’d see her as posh and clownishly plump.

She was saved from further chat by hearing shouts along the bank. ‘It’s Bobby – he’s back!’

The Bartholomew children were charging wildly towards them, raggle-taggle brigade that they were, in their motley collection of clothes. Rose had on an old frock of Sally’s that was almost down to her ankles and she had to hold it up to run along. All of them were grubby from top to toe. It was a losing battle for Maryann, trying to keep them clean. Bobby laughed at the sight. Maryann was at the back, being pulled along by the twins, one tugging on each hand, and smiling at the sight of Bobby. Dot suddenly saw for a second a sweet young woman beneath the careworn wife, mother and boat skipper whose face was always lined with tiredness and worry.

Bobby leapt back onto the bank and the older children ran at him, all talking at once.

‘Bobby’s got a
bike!’

‘Whose is it? Is it yours?’

‘Where d’you get it?’

‘Can we have a ride?’

‘Hello, Bobby – got here at last! All right, are you?’ Maryann called out over the children’s din. She felt like flinging her arms round him, she was so pleased to see him, but she knew he would just be embarrassed. Her inner heaviness lightened a fraction. Bobby was like part of the family. Having him here for a while gave a feel of things returning to normal. She was puzzled, though, to see Dot looking aloof and rather bad-tempered.
Back to
how she used to be
, Maryann thought.
What’s got into her?

‘A feller gave me that, down London,’ Bobby said, nodding at the bike. ‘Thought it’d speed us up a bit.’

Maryann nodded. She and Joel had never used a bike, though the trainees had expressed their surprise at not finding one on the boat when they arrived.

‘I s’pose so,’ she said doubtfully.

Once they’d swapped their news, Maryann said, ‘I’ll get the kettle on for a brew and we’d better get cracking.’ Bobby had said he could stay with them for as long as was needed, and certainly until Sylvia was due back at the end of the school holidays. They started on rearranging the boats. It was to be boys in one, girls in the other. Maryann would be in the
Esther Jane
with Dot, Sal, Rose and the twins, and Bobby would have Joley and Ezra bunked up with him in the
Theodore.
Dot silently carried her belongings onto the
Esther Jane.
The children were all very excited, both with Bobby being back and by the changes, and ran back and forth shouting shrilly to each other, begging Bobby for rides on the bike.

‘It’s going to be more crowded in here than you’re used to,’ Maryann apologized to Dot as she carried her belongings in.

‘That’s all right,’ Dot said and smiled. Maryann was reassured. She wanted to ask if there was something wrong but didn’t quite dare. Dot had only just begun getting over Steven’s death, hadn’t she? That was surely what was wrong. Overwhelmed by her own worries, she sometimes forgot.

Dot was quiet all afternoon, but for most of it Maryann was too lost in her own thoughts to notice very much. As well as sorting out and cleaning both boats and keeping an eye on the twins, her thoughts swam round and round all that had happened when she visited Janet, the horror of Amy’s death and the visit to the police station. Her nerves were so jangled she jumped at the slightest sound. Bobby stuck his head through the hatches of the
Esther Jane
while she was polishing the stove, lost in thought, and she shrieked, laying a hand over her pounding heart.

‘Flippin’ eck Bobby! You nearly made me jump out of my skin!’

‘I’ve finished taking my things in. All settled. Good little cabin you got there.’

‘You only just noticed?’ Maryann forced a grin onto her face.

‘Now I’ve worked a few others I can see how nice you’ve got it. You should be proud.’

‘Yes,’ Maryann sighed. ‘But – you know Joel. Only thing’d make him proud is if it’s his own, with “Joel Bartholomew, Number One” on the cabin.’

Bobby moved a bit further in. ‘That Dot’s a bit of a rum ’un, ent she?’

‘She’s all right.’ Maryann looked up from her polishing again for a minute. #x2018;Good sort. Don’t know what’s up with her today. She’ll come round.’

‘Well, I flaming hope so,’ he said. ‘I ent said nothing amiss that I can think of and all I get from her’s looks – and not very nice ones.’

Maryann laughed at his indignant expression. ‘Well, there’s a challenge for you, eh, Bobby? Time you found yourself a nice girl anyway.’

‘Ooh – not like that ’un! He rolled his eyes, as if to imply that Dot was like someone from outer space.

‘You got your eye on anyone yet?’ Maryann often felt like Bobby’s mother.

He grinned mischievously. ‘Might have. Might not. We’ll have to see, won’t we?’

Mr Veater put them on short trips shifting coal again to begin with, to Baddesley colliery, then Griff. The spring days increased in warmth and the cooling towers of the power station puffed out their clouds of vapour towards a fresh, blue sky.

Bobby took charge of the
Theodore
and Dot chose to do whatever lock-wheeling was called for, often with some of the kids scrambling along beside her. Sometimes now they used the bike.

Maryann found her mind scattered and forgetful. She would find herself standing, forgetting what the task was she was supposed to be carrying out, and she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts together. As she stood at the helm the past kept welling up, however much she tried not to think of it. She could not stop thinking about Amy, especially as the day of her funeral passed. Janet understood that Maryann wouldn’t be able to be there, but it was a hard, bitter day for her and, as she worked, her mind was with Janet. Every time she thought about it she was overwhelmed by rage. Round and round it all went in her head. She didn’t want to be here, she needed to be in Birmingham, tracking Norman Griffin down, bringing justice upon him. How could they find him? Of course – she could ask Pastor Owen. Why hadn’t she remembered to tell the policeman about him? Norman might have let slip to him something about where he lived and worked.
Someone
must know. After all, it wasn’t as if you could miss him with looks like that. You couldn’t forget him.

She became aware gradually, though, that all was not well with her crew. A sparring match had begun between Dot and Bobby. They seemed to have started off on the wrong foot with each other and it wasn’t getting any better. When Bobby heard Dot’s full name of Dorothy Higgs-Deveraux, he’d chortled with great amusement and sent Dot off into a huff by nicknaming her ‘her ladyship’. Dot was not showing much sense of humour about this and was now, to Maryann’s exasperation, back to being as abrasive as when she’d first arrived. With Bobby behind her on the
Theodore
Maryann didn’t notice what was going on a lot of the time, but once when she turned to look as he was bringing the boat through a lock, she saw him making an exaggerated bow towards Dot, who was on the bank, and doffing his cap. Dot completely ignored him on this occasion, sailing past without turning her head. Bobby always seemed to be trying to get a rise out of her and often succeeded. He couldn’t seem to find any other way of dealing with Dot or she with him.