A Sister's War Read online

  ‘Leave off.’ Will rounded on Michael. ‘She’s a lyin’ bitch.’

  ‘Don’t you dare call me a bitch.’ The barmaid’s blue eyes sparked with anger. Her expression relaxed as she looked at Michael. ‘He’s always rude to me these days, officer, ever since I found out his real age and stopped goin’ out with him. I didn’t want ter be no cradle-snatcher.’

  Will leaned menacingly over the counter. ‘Yer lyin’ again, Mavis—’

  Mavis rewarded him with a stinging slap on the face. ‘That’s for callin’ me a bitch.’ She gave Michael a smile. ‘I can tell yer his age,’ she said. ‘I found out he’s only just turned seventeen.’

  His hand raised, Will swivelled round to face Michael. ‘You goin’ ter stand there? She bleedin’ attacked me. You should arrest her.’

  ‘Afraid you deserved that, for speaking to a lady in such a manner,’ Michael said, gripping Will’s arm again.

  ‘She ain’t no lady.’ Will’s mouth was sullen.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Michael said, thinking quickly. ‘You tell me where Dora Dummitt is, and I won’t book you for juvenile drinking.’

  Will snorted. ‘I ain’t no juvenile.’

  ‘Where is Dora?’ Michael spoke softly.

  Will gave a heavy sigh. ‘They’re yonder …’ He waved his left arm in the direction. ‘I reckon they’ll be stuck in the ice.’

  ‘Name of the village?’

  ‘Bugbrooke.’ Will grinned. ‘Or Buggerbrooke, as it’s known round here.’

  Five miles on a bike in this atrocious weather. Michael groaned inwardly.

  ‘Thank you.’ He turned to the barmaid. ‘Thanks, Mavis. Just clip him another one if he acts up again.’

  She grinned, showing a gap in her front teeth. ‘I will, officer, now I have yer permission.’

  Michael nodded and made for the door. He took his cape from the coat stand and people started talking again. He turned his head to give a last look and they immediately stopped. He paused, and then he said loudly and clearly to the youth called Will, now sitting on a bar stool watching and smirking:

  ‘Just one more thing, Will. We take a very dim view of people who deliberately break the law, especially in wartime, so any more trouble from you and you won’t know what’s hit you. And that’s a promise.’

  He shut the door behind him but not before he heard a roar of laughter from the customers. He wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or young Will Drake.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ronnie hated the idea that Dora planned to move on after they’d all had a morning cup of cocoa. She knew she was probably being over-cautious, but she wished Dora would stay put until they knew Margaret was definitely out of hospital. Should she say anything? If she was going to, she needed to say it now, because Dora was already preparing to let go.

  She gathered her courage. Dora was emerging from the motorboat after having inspected it for being shipshape and ready to leave.

  ‘Miss Dummitt—’

  ‘What is it now, miss?’ Dora said impatiently, jumping down and onto the towpath.

  ‘I’m worried about Margaret.’

  ‘Well, don’t be,’ Dora said without looking up. ‘Get back ter the butty. We’re lettin’ go in fifteen minutes. You need to be helpin’ Angela at the tiller.’

  ‘She said she could manage on her own.’

  Dora nodded. ‘Well, maybe she don’t need help but you could do with watchin’.’

  Ronnie bit her lip to stop herself from saying she had no problem at the tiller and in fact liked that part of the job best of all. Dora was so contrary that she might not allow her to take the tiller on her own if she thought she enjoyed it too much.

  ‘I just wanted to ask – couldn’t we stay a couple more days – just to make sure Margaret’s all right?’

  ‘No, we couldn’t, miss.’ Dora flexed her fingers and glared at Ronnie. ‘I have a schedule ter keep and Margaret’s irresponsible behaviour in’t helped. There’s no more ter be said. So off yer go.’

  She’d tried. For once Ronnie was grateful there were several locks to negotiate. It took her mind off Margaret.

  Dora tilted her head upwards. ‘I don’t like the look of that sky,’ she said that afternoon. ‘It’s full of snow.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Sally asked curiously.

  ‘Yer only have ter look at them clouds,’ Dora said. ‘Some of them have a yeller look and some pink.’ She grimaced. ‘That’s a sure sign, though I must say it’s a bit early fer the time o’ year.’ She looked at her watch as she puffed away on her pipe. ‘Three o’clock, near to. I don’t think we oughta go further. We could be in for a big snowstorm so we’ll tether the boats and tie up at Bugbrooke. Better safe than sorry.’

  Ronnie breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t come far today after a much later start. If there was any news of Margaret the hospital would soon find out where Dora was and let her know. And anyway, she consoled herself, no news was good news.

  The afternoon and evening wore on. Jessica went to bed early with a headache.

  ‘You’re not coming down with anything, are you?’ Angela asked in a challenging tone.

  ‘If I am, I shan’t ask you to look after me,’ was Jessica’s retort. ‘Don’t wake me, either of you. I’ve taken a couple of aspirin.’ She pulled the blanket almost over her head and told Ronnie not to wake her until morning.

  It was difficult for Ronnie to have any conversation with Angela. How she missed May and her chatter and cheerful smile – so different from Angela’s turned-down mouth. She wondered how Sally and May were getting on with Dora, as for once Dora didn’t need to find the nearest pub to sleep in with Margaret gone. The thought of Margaret made the niggling worry start again. She knew she was being silly. The hospital wouldn’t have said Margaret was improving if it wasn’t true.

  Ronnie awoke from a night where she’d had little sleep, mostly being kept awake by Jessica’s heavy breathing and frequent thrashing of her long legs. It was only this last hour or so she’d finally dropped off. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she realised every part of her body was freezing cold, yet for a change Jess hadn’t grabbed more than her share of the blankets. Ronnie sneezed, waking the sleeping girl.

  ‘Wassup?’

  ‘Nothing. Except I’m absolutely frozen.’

  Jessica put her head on one side. ‘Listen.’

  ‘I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘That’s just it. It’s completely silent. Where are the quacking ducks, the splashes of the otters … even the wind rustling in the branches? There’s just nothing.’

  Jessica was right. The silence was eerie. As though Mother Nature was holding her breath.

  Shivering, Ronnie reached for one of her jumpers and slung it round her shoulders. She got out of bed and undid the hatch. Immediately a fall of snow dropped onto her head and she started to giggle.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Angela’s peeved tones made Ronnie giggle even louder.

  ‘Oh, my God, it’s snowing,’ Angela said, looking horrified at Ronnie’s head.

  ‘You look like an old lady, Ronnie.’ Jessica sat up, joining in the laughter. ‘Literally with snow-white hair.’ Feeling for her bag she pulled out a gold compact, then snapped it open. She handed it to Ronnie. ‘Take a look at yourself in fifty years’ time,’ she said.

  Ronnie threw her head back so that a lump of snow fell off, showering Angela.

  ‘You stupid girl,’ Angela said, furiously brushing the flakes away. ‘What did you want to go and do that for?’

  ‘To annoy you, of course,’ Ronnie said, still laughing when she saw herself in the tiny mirror. ‘I’m going to put my coat on and have a proper look.’

  She quickly pulled on her socks and shoes, then threw on her coat and climbed through the hatch.

  She gasped. It was as though she’d stumbled into fairyland. It was dark but there was still a crescent moon, and its soft light glistened on every tree, every branch, every twig that was cover
ed with snow. It was such a beautiful sight that Ronnie’s mouth opened, causing her breath to puff out in hazy rings. There was no sound of the usual gentle lapping of the water at the sides of the boat. No sound of any creatures. Any not already hibernating would be hidden away in this weather, she thought, hoping it wasn’t cold enough to kill them.

  ‘Come down, Ronnie,’ Jessica shouted. ‘Put your proper trousers on and some more jumpers or you’ll catch your death. We don’t want another casualty.’

  ‘All right.’ Ronnie came down the steps shaking the snow from her raincoat.

  ‘Couldn’t you have done that outside?’ Angela demanded.

  ‘No. Jessica’s right – it’s much colder than I thought.’

  ‘I’m getting up,’ Jessica said. ‘Someone needs to start the porridge.’

  ‘It’s not even six o’clock,’ Angela grumbled. ‘I’m going to have another hour.’

  ‘Fine.’ Jessica hopped out of bed and pulled on her tartan dressing gown, then pulled the pipe cleaners from her head and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it and letting the golden waves tumble to her shoulders.

  She looked lovely, Ronnie thought. For an instant she wished she hadn’t cut her hair quite so short. She could easily be mistaken for a boy in her filthy clothes. But every time she changed into clean clothes the new set became just as disgusting by the end of the same day. Maman would go on and on if she saw her like it.

  Ronnie pictured Suzy looking glamorous in her evening dress, singing her heart out to the weary soldiers. It must be heaven to have a proper bath, wash her hair with shampoo instead of soap, wear something pretty for a change. Just to see what it felt like. She wouldn’t want it all the time – of course not, she told herself fiercely. But just to experience it occasionally. Even Raine in her uniform had looked fabulous when they’d met in London to go and see Mrs Hunter about working on the canals. If anything, the uniform made her look even more feminine. Well, uniforms and evening gowns weren’t her at all. She was always happier in trousers.

  After breakfast when Ronnie was washing the dishes, Dora banged on the side of the boat to let them know she was coming in.

  ‘It’s very slippery out there,’ she warned as she stepped into the cabin, ‘so watch yerselves. We won’t be goin’ nowhere today – maybe not even termorrer if the snow don’t let up. We’d never see where we was headin’.’ She looked at Ronnie. ‘Yer might have yer wish after all,’ she added, ‘unless we see one of the boaters comin’ the other way ter give us some news.’

  But all was quiet on the canal. They didn’t spot another boat that day or the next.

  ‘The boaters know in advance what the weather’s goin’ ter do,’ Dora said. ‘It’s typical of ’em ter make theirselves scarce. They’ll all be in the pub!’

  Ronnie thought she would go mad with Angela’s moaning and groaning, often complaining about Lucky in an undertone, but managed to bite her tongue, though Jessica was more vocal.

  ‘I could cheerfully wring her bloody neck,’ she said to Ronnie when Angela decided to go and inspect the weather situation for herself. ‘Who does she think she is?’

  ‘Somewhere above us,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘Speak for yourself.’ Jessica’s eyes flashed. Then she looked contrite as Ronnie flinched. ‘Sorry, Ronnie, that didn’t come out how I meant it. You’re as good as me any day of the week. And by the way, I don’t mind you calling me “Jess”.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would,’ Ronnie grinned, wiping down the wooden top they used as a draining board, and hung the wet cloth over the handle of the kettle. ‘I just want May to come back. She was such fun with her ukulele. Maybe we’ll ask her to give us a tune this evening after supper.’

  ‘She won’t want to brave the slippery gunwale holding an instrument.’

  ‘Then we’ll go to Persephone,’ Ronnie said decisively.

  But to her disappointment, May said she really wasn’t in the mood. The only good thing was that Jessica had more time to be experimental with the cooking. Until the third day when she said she was running out of ingredients.

  ‘Yous’ll need to stock up,’ Dora said when she arrived the same minute Jessica was flinging open the cupboards and swearing that there was nothing to make for supper.

  ‘How? We can’t walk to the village in this weather.’

  ‘That’s the reason yer was told ter bring boots,’ Dora said. ‘Those brogues yer wear are for summer when yer doin’ this sorta work.’ She looked at Ronnie. ‘And yous’ve only got wellies that might keep out the water but not the freezing cold.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Angela said surprisingly. ‘I’ve got all the correct gear.’

  She would, Ronnie thought. But she wasn’t going to let Angela go on her own. She had to get outside too. Breathe some fresh air. Stretch her cramped legs. See someone else besides Dora and the others.

  ‘I’ll help you, Angela,’ she said. ‘Jess needs quite a bit of stuff so I can help carry everything.’

  For a moment Angela looked as though she was going to oppose the suggestion, but then she shrugged. ‘Okay, you’d better wrap up and bring a couple of bags … and your coupons would help this time,’ she added with a twist of her lips to presumably remind Ronnie of her previous lapse.

  The two girls trod painstakingly through the snow. To Ronnie’s amusement Angela slipped more in her winter boots than Ronnie in her Wellingtons. The village was further away than Dora had implied. At any other time Ronnie would have enjoyed the walk, loving the sound of the snow crunching under the rubber soles of her boots, but her anxiety about her feet, which felt as if they were becoming more and more frozen with every step, took away any enjoyment. There was no sign of the snow melting, and by the look of yet another sullen grey sky there was no hope for any breakthrough later on. By the time they arrived at the village Ronnie’s feet were numb.

  ‘Oh, no, the shop’s closed,’ Angela said. She shook her head. ‘There must be somewhere else open.’

  ‘What day is it?’

  ‘Wednesday,’ Angela said.

  ‘If this place is the same as Downe, where I live, the whole village will be shut on a Wednesday afternoon – half-day closing at one o’clock.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And it’s ten past.’

  ‘What on earth do we do? We can’t go back empty-handed.’

  For once Angela seemed to be at a loss.

  ‘There’s the pub not far,’ Ronnie said, pointing to a Tudor building, ‘and that’s where I’m heading.’

  ‘Miss Dummitt won’t like it.’

  Ronnie rounded on her. ‘You know something, Angela? I don’t care whether Deadly Dora likes it or not. I’m not wandering around and still not find anything. I’m going in to warm up my feet. And see if there’s anything they might be able to let me have. And you can please yourself whether you come with me.’

  ‘I’m going back,’ Angela said.

  Ronnie turned without another word, so intent was she on thawing her poor feet. With extra care she covered the short distance to The Crown, then almost slipped on the step of the pub door. Grabbing a snow-covered bush to steady herself she opened the door and was nearly knocked backwards by the heat of the log fire roaring in the inglenook. The place was heaving – almost all with men. They stopped speaking as every head turned towards her. Ronnie gulped, wishing Angela had stayed with her. She shoved her hands in her pockets to stop anyone from seeing them tremble.

  ‘What can I do for you, love?’ the man behind the bar asked. He was a tubby man who wore a spotless white apron, and spectacles perched upon his bald head.

  Face flushing with embarrassment she forced herself to put one lifeless foot in front of the other towards the bar, aware of her every move under the stares of the customers.

  She swallowed. ‘I’m one of the boat trainees,’ she began, keeping her voice down, trying not to draw attention to herself, ‘and I’m—’

  There were a few incredulous guffaws to those near enough to hear her.


  ‘You boat wenches are more trouble than yer worth,’ one man with only socks on his feet and his legs thrust out in the inglenook shouted. ‘Stuck in the snow, are yer?’ Without waiting for a reply, he said, ‘I s’pose yer askin’ for help.’

  ‘We don’t know what the girl wants, so let her finish,’ a man at the bar called out, then caught her eye and gave her a wink.

  Ronnie’s cheeks burned. ‘We’ve almost run out of food,’ she said. ‘In fact, we don’t even have anything for supper. And the shop’s on half-day closing.’

  ‘And cold enough to freeze your ba—’ He stopped himself and chuckled. ‘Oh, dear – better watch me language. We’re not used to pretty girls coming in here.’

  Ronnie drew herself up. ‘If you can’t help me—’

  ‘Why don’t you sit down, love, over by the fire, and I’ll get you a drink to warm you up. You look frozen to death.’

  Before she could reply, he said, ‘I’m Bob, and I’m doing the cooking. There’s some meat and veg pie left over I could pack for you and your pals, but it’d be dangerous you walking in the snow holding a dish.’ His eyes fell on the man who’d stuck up for her. ‘Sid, could you help this young lady back to the boat when I’ve got her dinner ready?’

  Sid’s face split in two with delight.

  ‘Oh, aye, I’ll see she don’t come to no harm … or the dinner,’ he added with a black-toothed grin.

  ‘Will it take long?’ Ronnie asked, her mouth watering at the sound of the pie. At least it would tide them over until tomorrow. And tomorrow the snow might have melted and they could do some proper food shopping. ‘I shall be in trouble if I don’t soon get back.’

  ‘Well, no one’s going anywhere in this lot.’

  He emerged from behind his counter. ‘You sit here, love …’ He tapped on one of the chairs at the side of the inglenook and put a glass of ginger ale on the round table. ‘Take your boots off and let your feet warm up.’ He turned to the man who’d spoken up for her. ‘Look after her, Sid. I shan’t be long.’

  Sid looked at Ronnie and grinned, showing three sparse teeth at the top and none at the bottom. ‘Yous’ll be all right with me,’ he said. ‘It’s the others yer want ter watch.’